• 


THE  LOST  ORACLES 


THE  LOST  ORACLES 

A  Masque 


By 

JAMES  WESTFALL  THOMPSON 


'Every  rite,  every  ceremony  or  belief  that  at 
any  time  has  made  the  path  of  life  easier  to 
any  one,  demands  my  reverence." 

— BISHOP  CREIGHTON 


WALTER  M.  HILL 
CHICAGO 


COPYRIGHT  1921 
BY  JAMES  WESTFAIX  THOMPSON 


Published  June  1921 


Composed  and  Printed  By 

The  University  of  Chicago  Presi 

Chicago,  Illinoii.  U.S.A. 


q 


THIS  EDITION  CONSISTS  OF 
FIVE  HUNDRED  NUMBERED 
AND  SIGNED  COPIES,  OF 
WHICH  THIS  IS  NO.  /  jf 


JOHANNI 
HENRICO 
FRATRI 
DILECTO 


That  was  not  first  which  is  spiritual,  but  that  which  is  natural;  and 
afterwards  that  which  is  spiritual. — ST.  PAUL. 

Stir  in  the  dark  of  the  stars  unborn  that  desire 

Only  the  thrill  of  a  wild,  dumb  force  set  free; 
Yearn  of  the  burning  heart  of  the  world  on  fire 

For  life  and  birth  and  battle  and  wind  and  sea; 
Groping  of  life  after  love  till  the  spirit  aspire, 

Into  divinity  ever  transmuting  the  clod; 
Higher  and  higher  and  higher  and  higher  and  higher 

Out  of  the  Nothingness,  world  without  end  into  God. 

— RICHARD  HOVEY,  Tdicsin. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

INTRODUCTION i 

ACT     I.    CAPRI.    IN  THE  YEAR  33  A.D 15 

ACT   II.    PATMOS 29 

ACT  III.    SPACE:  THE  SEVEN  HEAVENS 37 

ACT  IV.    HEAVEN:  THE  LAST  JUDGMENT 49 

ACT    V.    THE  LOST  ORACLES 

Egypt 73 

Babylon 80 

Tyre 88 

Phrygia 95 

Persia 101 

Hellas 108 

Rome 116 

INTERLUDE:  PROCESSION  OF  THE  EXILED  GODS       .       .       .       .125 
ACT  VI.    THE  CONSECRATION  AND  THE  POET'S  DREAM 

Patmos 131 

The  Vale  of  Tempe  in  Thessaly 136 


XI 


INTRODUCTION 

The  Book  of  Revelation,  sometimes  known  as  the 
Apocalypse,  and  traditionally  but  erroneously  ascribed  to 
Saint  John,  was  the  basis  of  many  a  mediaeval  mystery.  In 
more  modern  times  its  sublime  scenes  and  gorgeous  imagery 
has  furnished  forth  a  number  of  oratorios  (though  no  opera, 
so  far  as  I  am  aware),  and  been  the  subject  of  many  a  painter's 
brush.  Under  the  circumstances  it  may  seem  presumptuous 
to  think  that  any  new  and  fresh  interpretation  of  so  old 
a  theme  is  possible.  Yet  I  venture  to  hope  that  in  the 
dramatization  of  the  struggle  between  the  pagan  cults  of 
antiquity  and  early  Christianity  here  presented,  both  the 
Apocalypse  and  the  " Death  of  the  Gods"  have  received  a 
new  literary  valuation.  For  I  have  tried  to  touch  with 
modern  poetry  and  modern  passion  one  of  the  most  tragically 
beautiful  episodes  in  the  history  of  human  culture. 

Nietzsche,  in  his  Birth  of  Tragedy,  has  magnificently 
said  that  "A  people,  and  for  the  rest  also  a  man,  is  worth 
just  as  much  only  as  its  ability  to  impress  on  its  existence 
the  seal  of  eternity."  This  has  been  the  aim  of  every  great 
religion  of  the  world.  But  the  effect  has  been  sought  in 
different  modes  or  ways  by  different  religions.  Buddhism 
finds  it  in  the  doctrine  of  impermanence  and  detachment,  and 
in  ultimate  mergence  with  nature.  "The  One  remains,  the 
many  change  and  pass." 

The  Greek,  on  the  other  hand,  found  the  ultimate  in  no 
ultimate.  To  him  search  was  life,  finality  was  death.  His 
was  the  Dionysian  ecstasy  to  experience  the  eternal  delight 
of  becoming.  To  the  Greek  never-ending  growth  was  the 
law  of  life.  To  him  living  had  no  value,  life  had.  To  him 
what  justified  man,  and  would  justify  him  to  all  eternity,  was 

d) 


Ube  Xost  ©racles 


his  own  reality.  The  majesty  of  mysteries  was  self-realization, 
for  in  self-realization  God  also  was  revealed.  This  is  the 
profound  truth  at  the  bottom  of  the  myth  of  Prometheus: 
man  seeking  to  become  God — the  will,  not  to  be  like  God,  but 
to  become  God.  To  become  one's  greatest  self,  with  the 
Greeks,  was  piety. 

The  power  in  this  aspiration  was  not  faith,  but  reason. 
"Mind  sees,  mind  hears,  all  besides  is  dumb  and  blind," 
said  Empedocles.  The  panic  of  God  in  Genesis,  and  of  the 
Gods  in  Greek  mythology,  was  fear  lest  man's  reason  might 
come  to  rival  that  of  God  himself;  that  man's  self-sufficient 
wisdom  might  some  day  make  him  equal  with  God.  If  the 
day  were  ever  to  come  when  man  had  no  need  of  God,  then 
God  were  not.  Hence  God's  stigmatizing  of  man's  search 
for  truth  as  sin,  and  the  wish  to  acquire  knowledge  as  a  crime, 
as  if  truth  were  something  which  one  may  possess  and  another 
be  denied.  Hence,  too,  the  break-up  of  the  nations  at  Babel, 
and  the  destruction  of  asinful"  man  by  the  Flood. 

The  passion  for  the  forbidden,  the  determination  to 
acquire  that  beyond  what  is  easily  attainable,  the  courage  for 
achievement,  the  struggle  for  the  labyrinthine,  the  search 
for  truth,  requires  the  highest  qualities  of  mind  and  heart. 
There  is  a  deep  symbolism  in  the  nailing  of  Prometheus  to  the 
snow-capped  peaks  of  Caucasus.  The  man  who  lives  out  the 
highest  that  he  knows  must  "have  a  thirst  for  thunderbolts," 
and  get  used  to  loneliness  and  cold.  "Life  always  gets 
harder  towards  the  summit,"  wrote  Nietzsche,  "the  cold 
increases."  The  period  of  ancient  history  when  the  Greek 
body  bloomed,  when  the  Greek  soul  brimmed  over,  was  also 
the  epoch  of  that  Olympic  struggle,  in  the  dust  cloud  of  which, 
perhaps  transfigured  by  the  mists  of  time  and  the  "pathos  of 
distance,"  we  see  the  towering  figures  of  men  like  Prometheus, 
walking  as  Gods. 

(2) 


3Lost  Grades 


Historical  Christianity  has  found  the  destiny  of  man,  his 
highest  and  best,  not  in  impermanence  and  detachment,  nor 
yet  again  in  the  Greek  principle  of  eternal  becoming,  but  in 
finality — a  final  heaven  of  eternal  bliss  for  the  good,  a  final 
hell  of  eternal  torment  for  the  wicked.  From  the  point  of 
view  of  intelligence  and  reason,  such  a  solution  is  degrading. 
For  there  can  be  no  finality  without  immobility,  and  immo 
bility  is  death. 

Finality  of  itself  were  bad  enough.  But  Christianity 
makes  its  case  worse  by  pivoting  the  conduct  of  man  not  upon 
reason  and  intelligence,  but  upon  faith,  which  is  often  blind 
belief  in  what  is  denied  by  intelligence,  and  the  refusal  to 
know  what  is  true.  "The  search  for  truth  is  made  hopeless  if 
the  world,  mistrusting  reason,  weary  of  argument  and  wonder, 
flings  itself  passionately  under  the  spell  of  a  system  of  author 
ized  revelation,  which  acknowledges  no  truth  outside  itself 
and  stamps  free  inquiry  as  sin."  This  is  what  orthodox 
Christianity  does.  Better  Cain  and  Esau,  who  were  of  the 
race  of  the  strong,  than  the  supple  and  pliant  Abel  and  Jacob. 
Better  Prometheus,  who  defied  the  Gods,  than  Oedipus 
who  exhibited  only  "the  heroism  of  passivity."  Tyndall's 
utterance  rings  like  a  clarion:  "No  worse  infidelity  could  seize 
upon  the  mind  than  the  belief  that  a  man's  earnest  search 
after  truth  should  culminate  in  his  perdition." 

The  idea  of  revealed  religion  implies  man's  incapacity  to 
think  for  himself,  and  the  presumption  that  truth  is  dangerous 
for  him  to  know.  It  nurtures  error  and  suppresses  truth. 
God  becomes  either  a  tyrant  pursuing  man  with  his  wrath 
for  seeking  truth,  and  endeavoring  to  become  his  greatest 
self;  or  else  everything  strong,  masterful,  quick,  proud, 
becomes  eliminated  from  the  idea  of  God.  Why  find  weeping 
sweet?  Man  should  be,  and  has  a  right  to  be,  noble  and 
proud  and  swift  of  heart  and  mind.  It  is  mind,  reason,  will, 

(3) 


Tlbe  Xost  Oracles 


that  redeems  man,  not  faith.  Faith  cultivates  ignorance, 
error,  superstition,  morbidity,  moral  and  intellectual  degrada 
tion.  Contempt  of  man  for  himself  is  its  keynote. 

To  the  honor  of  the  cults  of  antiquity,  they  never  con 
ceived  the  vicious  idea  of  a  revealed  religion,  or  developed 
the  principle  of  authority  in  religion,  or  created  a  systematic 
theology.  The  Greek's  business  was  with  thought  and  action, 
not  with  reward;  least  of  all  did  the  Greek  believe  in  any 
atonement  for  sin  outside  of  himself.  His  sacrifices  were 
propitiatory,  not  expiatory. 

Under  the  syncretic  influences  and  impulses  of  the  time 
in  which  Christianity  was  born  and  expanded,  it  imbibed  and 
assimilated  much  from  the  beliefs  and  practices  of  the  many 
pagan  cults  with  which  it  came  in  contact.  But  unfortunately 
it  chose  the  worse  and  not  the  better  parts  of  these  religions. 
It  developed  a  Christian  mythology  of  its  own,  while  it 
condemned  the  mythology  of  the  Greek  and  oriental  cults, 
although  the  spiritual  suggestiveness  of  the  latter  exceeds 
that  in  the  former.  To  those  who  have  eyes  to  see  and  hearts 
to  understand,  the  myths  of  Aphrodite  and  of  Kronos  and 
Rhea  were  intimations  of  God.  But  they  taught  by  allegory 
and  mystery,  not  by  dogmatism  and  theological  exposition. 
Just  here  was  the  ground  of  feud  between  Julian  and  the 
church  fathers  of  the  fourth  century.  The  dying  paganism 
of  the  fourth  century  believed  that  Greek  philosophy  and 
mythology  were  the  relics  of  a  primeval  revelation.  "  There 
is  truth  in  the  myths,  but  irksome  and  hard  to  the  mind  is 
faith,"  said  Empedocles. 

It  is  the  demerit  of  historical  Christianity  to  have  devised 
dogma,  invented  exegesis,  and  formulated  the  principle  of 
intolerance,  under  the  influence  of  Hellenistic  sophistry  and 
dialectic  and  Roman  legalism.  The  Greek  believed  in  the 
moral  ascent  of  man  through  use  of  his  faculties  of  will,  reason, 

(4) 


ZTbe  Xost  ©racles 


knowledge,  and  understanding.  He  put  a  premium  on  intelli 
gence  and  the  essential  worth  of  the  individual.  Better  were 
it  for  a  man  to  go  to  ruin  like  a  broken  cloud  than  humiliate 
his  heart  by  slavishly  accepting  that  which  his  intelligence 
knows  to  be  untrue  or  absurd. 

Religion  is  a  tragic  business.  For  human  life,  with  all  its 
beauty  and  its  possibilities,  after  all  rests  upon  a  sub-stratum 
of  suffering.  But  why  make  that  suffering  ignoble,  instead 
of  ennobling  ?  To  know  God,  to  seek  for  Him  who  is  beyond 
all  darkness,  is  the  majesty  of  mysteries,  and  never  was  man 
yet  who  completely  penetrated  behind  the  veil.  But  it  is  not 
religious  to  bear  about  a  shattered  and  bleeding  soul,  and 
ever  to  be  spiritually  miserable  and  morbid.  It  is  not  sinners 
who  are  saved,  but  the  noble  of  soul.  The  man  who  has  to  be 
saved  by  atonement  is  not  worth  saving  at  any  price,  even  a 
penny's  worth.  Life  transcends  life.  But  it  is  not  heaven 
or  immortality  in  the  end,  but  a  higher  magic  plane  of  spiritual 
existence  which  establishes  a  new  world  on  the  ruins  of 
the  old. 

He  who  scoffs  at  the  spiritual  values  found  in  the  cults  of 
antiquity  is  either  ignorant  or  bigoted,  or  both.  If  there 
were  only  one  religion  in  the  world  it  would  be  too  easily 
recognized.  Christianity  is  not  that  merle  blanche  among 
religions  which  it  is  commonly  reputed  to  be.  It  has  sprung 
from  the  same  root  of  paganism,  and  is  just  one  more  branch 
of  the  great  tree  of  religion. 

We  are  apt  to  forget  that  the  religions  of  Isis  and  Osiris, 
of  Attis,  of  Dionysos,  were  as  real  to  their  worshipers  as  the 
Christian  religion  is  today  to  its  votaries.  The  pagans  whom 
the  early  Christians  execrated  were  as  certain  of  their  Vege 
tation  Gods,  their  Sun  Gods,  as  modern  Christians  are  of 
their  God-in-Christ;  and  the  pretenses  to  biographical 
knowledge  of  their  Gods  which  we  call  mythology  have  little 

(s) 


Ube  Xost  ©racles 


less  historicity  than  the  pious  mythology  which  has  encrusted 
the  life  of  Jesus.  Jesus  was  an  historical  person.  The  Christ 
is  a  character  of  Christian  mythology.  As,  back  of  Osiris, 
perhaps  once  lived  a  great  religious  teacher  in  oldest  Egypt; 
as,  back  of  Zoroastrianism,  once  lived  another  great  religious 
teacher  in  Iran,  the  one  to  become  a  God,  the  other  an 
energumen,  so  back  of  the  energumatic  Christus  was  the  his 
torical  Jesus.  But  the  connection  between  the  two,  in  each 
case,  is  an  imaginary  one.  The  few  historical  statements 
which  can  be  made  concerning  Jesus  cannot  be  admitted  as 
evidence  concerning  Christ,  for  "Christ"  is  not  an  historical 
person,  but  an  invention  of  the  theological  mind. 

One  who  reads  ancient  Greek  poetry,  philosophy,  mythol 
ogy,  with  his  spiritual  senses  on  the  alert,  can  hardly  avoid 
a  feeling  of  poignant  regret  that  early  Christianity  read  the 
message  of  those  ancient  cults  with  so  literal  an  eye  instead 
of  trying  to  understand  the  spirit  of  their  parole,  and  to  view 
the  search  of  the  ancient  cults  after  God  at  least  with  tolera 
tion,  even  if  not  with  sympathy.  There  is  no  room  for 
imagination  or  poetry  or  beauty  in  dogma  or  ecclesiastical 
legalism.  The  spiritual  loss  to  the  world  owing  to  early 
Christianity's  dogmatism,  hardness  of  heart  and  deliberate 
determination  not  to  see  what  was  best  and  greatest  in  the 
heart  of  the  ancient  mystery  religions  is  enormous. 

In  this  day  of  ours  no  two  men  have  so  sympathetically 
interpreted  the  grandeur  of  Greek  religious  thought  as  have 
Nietzsche  and  Sir  Gilbert  Murray,  or  felt  more  deeply  the 
tragedy  of  its  extinction.  The  former  has  written: 

The  world  grew  older  and  the  dream  vanished For  this 

is  the  manner  in  which  religions  are  wont  to  die  out:  when,  under 
the  stern,  intelligent  eyes  of  an  orthodox  dogmatism,  the  mythical 
presuppositions  of  a  religion  are  systematised  as  a  completed  sum  of 
historical  events,  and  when  one  begins  apprehensively  to  defend  the 

(6) 


Xost  trades 


credibility  of  the  myth — when,  accordingly,  the  feeling  of  myth  dies  out 
and  its  place  is  taken  by  the  claims  of  religion  to  historical  foundations.1 

Sir  Gilbert  Murray  has  formulated  this  brief  for  ancient 
paganism : 

The  kind  of  religion  which  ancient  paganism  had  become  at  the 
time  of  its  final  reaction  against  Christianity  [is]  a  more  or  less  intelligible 
whole,  and  succeeds  better  than  most  religions  in  combining  two  great 
appeals.  It  appeals  to  the  philosopher  and  the  thoughtful  man  as  a 
fairly  complete  and  rational  system  of  thought,  which  speculative  and 

enlightened  minds  in  any  age  might  believe  without  disgrace 

At  the  same  time  this  religion  appeals  to  the  ignorant  and  the  humble- 
minded.  It  takes  from  the  pious  villager  no  single  object  of  worship  that 
has  turned  his  thoughts  heavenwards.  It  may  explain  and  purge,  it 
never  condemns  or  ridicules.  In  its  own  eyes  that  was  its  greatest 

glory;  in  the  eyes  of  history,  perhaps,  its  fatal  weakness After 

the  time  of  Constantine  ....  it  is  paganism,  not  Christianity,  that 
must  uphold  the  flag  of  a  desperate  fidelity  in  the  face  of  a  hostile  world. 
....  The  battle  is  over,  and  it  is  poor  work  to  jeer  at  the  wounded 

and  the  dead Like  other  vanquished,  these  vanquished  have 

been  tried  at  the  bar  of  history  without  benefit  of  counsel,  have  been 
condemned  in  their  absence  and  died  with  their  lips  sealed.  The 
polemic  literature  of  Christianity  is  loud  and  triumphant,  the  books  of 
the  pagans  have  been  destroyed.  Only  an  ignorant  man  will  pronounce 

a  violent  or  bitter  judgment  here No  one  man's  attitude  towards 

the  Uncharted  can  be  quite  the  same  as  his  neighbor's [But]  for 
gotten  things,  if  there  be  real  life  in  them,  will  sometimes  return  out 
of  the  dust,  vivid  to  help  still  in  the  forward  groping  of  humanity.2 

May  I  quote  at  some  length  from  another  ?  One  of  the 
weightiest  books  of  its  size  published  within  the  century  is 
Dr.  L.  R.  Farnell's  The  Evolution  of  Religion.3  The  five  great 
volumes  by  this  scholar  upon  "The  Cults  of  the  Greek  States" 
have  amply  qualified  him  to  write  this  admirable  interpreta 
tive  synthesis.  He  says: 

The  reasonable  and  sympathetic  study  of  the  various  religions  of 
mankind,  which  are  perhaps  the  clearest  mirror  we  possess  of  human 

1  Birth  of  Tragedy,  p.  84.  'Four  Stages  of  Greek  Religion,  pp.  177-84. 

3  L.  R.  Farnell,  The  Evolution  of  Religion,  New  York  and  London,  1905. 

(7) 


ZTbe  Xost  trades 


feeling,  aspiration,  and  thought  in  its  highest  and  lowest  forms,  is  only 
possible  for  the  individual  or  for  the  age  that  feels  no  constraining  call 

to  suppress  and  obliterate  all  save  one  cherished  creed We 

owe  to  it  [anthropology]  the  positive  induction  that  the  religious  product 
at  the  different  stages  and  in  the  different  branches  of  mankind  was  a 

complex  growth  from  many  different  germs Greek  mythology 

has  often  its  striking  affinities It  is  necessary  for  comparative 

folklore  and  anthropology  to  point  this  out  and  often  to  insist  on  the 
beauty  of  the  legend  and  the  dignity  of  the  religious  thought.  .... 
Greek  mythology,  after  all,  is  the  most  beautiful  of  any  of  which  we 
have  record. 

Yet  what  is  less  its  own  than  a  people's  gods  ?  We  greatly  desider 
ate  an  anthropology  of  the  Mediterranean  basin,  including  anterior  Asia; 
for  there  are  strong  reasons  for  the  belief  that  from  very  early  times 
the  frequent  intercourse  of  the  leading  peoples  in  this  region  endowed 
them  with  a  common  stock  of  religious  ideas,  ritual  and  legend  which 
have  probably  left  their  impress  on  the  higher  religions  of  the  world. 
....  For  probably  every  one  of  the  world-creeds  has  inherited,  apart 
from  its  own  achievement,  a  double  tradition,  a  tradition  from  the 

more  remote  and  one  from  the  more  immediate  past Neither 

our  sacred  books  nor  Judaic  literature  nor  Greek  philosophy  explain  the 
whole  complex  of  historic  Christianity The  old  Phrygian  reli 
gion  ....  must  be  seriously  taken  into  account People 

insist  on  telling  the  old  stories  under  changed  names St.  Augus 
tine,  mistaking  Greek  legends  for  Greek  religion,  could  discover  no 
morality  in  it  at  all,  and  modern  scholars  have  inherited  the  fallacy. 
....  The  myth  that  is  an  essential  fact  for  the  student  of  religion  is 
that  which  enshrines  some  living  religious  idea  or  institution,  or  one 
which  proves  the  survival  of  some  ritual  or  faith  that  belonged  to  an 
older  system. 

....  The  divine  character  of  the  Virgin  owed  much,  directly  or 

indirectly,  to  the  great  Anatolian  cult  of  the  Mother-Goddess 

When  St.  Paul  promises  to  "show  you  a  mystery"  he  is  borrowing  the 
language  of  paganism.1  ....  Bishop  Clemens  uses  the  phraseology  of 

the  Eleusinian  and  Attis  Mysteries The  formula  nomina  sunt 

numina  was  valid  in  all  the  old  religions  of  the  Mediterranean  area, 
including  earlier  and  even  later  Christianity In  the  history  of 

*I  Cor.  15:51-     So  in  I  Cor.  2:7  he  writes:  "We  speak  the  wisdom  of 
God  in  a  mystery." 

(8) 


3Lo0t  ©racles 


divine  names  none  has  been  of  greater  import  for  paganism  and  Christ 
ianity  alike  than  Kore-Parthenos  and  that  of  the  Greek  and  Phrygian 

Divine   Mother The  goddess  who  proffered  salvation  in  the 

pre-Christian  Hellenic  world  afforded  strong  stimulus  to  the  later 
growth  and  diffusion  of  Mariolatry,  which  is  one  of  those  phenomena  in  the 
history  of  the  Church  which  cannot  be  adequately  explained  without  look 
ing  beyond  the  limits  of  Christianity  proper In  the  veneration 

of  images  ....  we  infallibly  detect  the  abiding  influence  of  Graeco- 

Roman  paganism Idolatry,  in  this  sense,  is  a  higher  form  of 

fetichism We  probably  all  inherit  some  faint  impress  of  the 

fetichistic  spirit,  nor  need  we  be  startled  if  we  find  it  in  the  higher 
religions. 

....  Even  at  the  present  time  we  can  easily  recognize  the 

fetichistic  value  of  the   sacred   objects,   relics,   crucifixes The 

"adoration  of  the  true  wood  of  the  cross"  ....  if  we  merely  consider 
the  nature  of  the  religious  object  and  the  value  of  the  material  thing 

for  .faith,  must  be   called  fetichistic The   fetichism,   then,  of 

the  higher  religions  and  of  the  savage  faith  is  morphologically  the 
same 

Finally,  there  remains  the  question  ....  concerning  the  affinities 
of  the  Christian  and  the  pre-Christian  religions  in  primary  ideas  and 

essential  belief The  incarnation  of  the  Godhead  in  human  form 

was  a  familiar  conception  to  the  civilized  and  half-civilized  races  of  the 

old  world More  important  still  for  the  purposes  of  religious 

comparison  is  the  wide  prevalence  in  the  Mediterranean  communities  of 

the  belief  in  the  death  and  resurrection  of  the  divinity The 

comparative  student  must  also  give  careful  consideration  to  what  are 
called  the  eschatologic  doctrines,  the  beliefs  concerning  posthumous 
happiness,  salvation  and  damnation,  not  only  of  the  Judaic,  but  also  of 
the  Hellenic,  Anatolian  and  Egyptian  religions 

Our  own  religious  history  should  be  traced  back  to  the  period  of 

our  ancestral  paganism We  shall  not  know  ourselves  ....  in 

fact  we  may  say  that  no  account  of  the  history  of  Christianity  in  any 
European  state  can  be  real  and  complete  unless  we  can  get  back  to  the 

pre-Christian  past  of  that  community Hellas  has  dominated  the 

creed  as  she  has  dominated  the  intellectual  history  of  Christendom. 
The  new  faith,  in  spite  of  its  fierce  or  contemptuous  intolerance  of  the 
past,  was  only  able  to  transform  but  not  to  abolish  the  Mediterranean 
tradition. 

(9) 


OLost  ©racies 


If  the  religions  of  antiquity  were  full  of  error  and  illusion, 
so  is  Christianity.  It  is  simply  a  question  of  degree.  In  last 
analysis  logically  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  false  God  or  a 
false  religion,  as  Max  Miiller  said.  For  every  religion  is  a 
search  after  Him  who  is  beyond  all  darkness.  One  of  the 
saddest  facts  in  the  history  of  the  spread  of  Christianity 
is  its  failure  to  perceive  this  fundamental  truth  of  religion. 
This  the  various  cults  of  antiquity,  on  the  other  hand, 
perceived.  While  not  co-operating,  they  were  not  hostile 
to  one  another,  they  were  not  intolerant  of  one  another. 
Every  votary  was  at  liberty  to  pass  from  one  religion 
to  another  if  he  failed  to  find  spiritual  refreshment  in  one 
cult  and  chose  to  seek  for  it  in  another  cult.  Dogmatism, 
intolerance,  heresy,  are  the  inventions  of  the  Christian  mind, 
not  of  the  pagan.  Instead  of  holding  out  the  right  hand  of 
fellowship  to  the  other  religions  in  the  Roman  world,  Christ 
ianity  regarded  them  all  as  enemies  and  at  last  slew  them, 
to  the  enormous  spiritual  impoverishment  of  mankind.  For 
in  destroying  paganism  Christianity  destroyed  profound 
spiritual  agencies  working  among  men,  and  itself  had  not 
sufficient  spirituality  to  recompense  for  the  loss. 

"Few  indeed,  but  those  roses,"  as  the  poet  Meleager 
said  of  the  fragments  of  Sappho,  are  the  precious  survivals 
of  paganism  which  the  ferocity  of  the  early  church  fathers 
has  spared  unto  us. 

The  imagination  of  poets,  musicians,  artists,  has  fed  upon 
the  paganism  of  antiquity,  at  least  since  the  Renaissance,  as  a 
rose  feeds  upon  sunlight  and  air.  Milton,  for  all  his  puritan- 
ism,  was  profoundly  imbued  with  paganism.  The  Ode  on  the 
Morning  of  Christ's  Nativity  is  saturated  with  allusions  to 
the  cults  of  ancient  Israel,  Egypt,  Babylonia,  Phoenicia, 
Greece,  and  Rome.  It  is  almost  as  much  pagan  as  it  is 
Hebrew  and  Christian.  So,  too,  Handel's  operas  are  redolent 

(10) 


TTbe  Xost  ©tacles 


of  pagan  memorials.  With  a  greater  delicacy  than  Milton's, 
Handel  perceived  shades  or  gradations  in  ancient  paganism. 
The  late  Samuel  Butler,  an  ardent  admirer  of  Handel's 
music,  has  acutely  pointed  out  the  contrast  "between  the 
polished  and  refined  Roman  paganism  in  'Theodora/  the 
rustic  paganism  of  'Bid  the  maids  the  youths  provoke'  in 
'Hercules,'  the  magician's  or  sorcerer's  paganism  of  the  blue 
furnace  in  'Chemosh  no  more/  or  the  Dagon  choruses  in 
'Samson.'" 

But  neither  Milton  nor  Handel,  nor  yet  Swinburne  nor 
Tennyson  nor  Walter  Pater  visualized  the  spiritual  content  of 
the  ancient  cults.  Their  mythology,  to  them,  was  sometimes 
a  pretty  fairy  tale  or  legend,  but  the  religious  message  em 
bodied  in  it  escaped  their  discernment.  It  is  only  of  late 
years,  since  the  development  of  the  science  of  comparative 
religion,  that  we  have  come  to  understand  that  behind  the 
veil  of  myth  lay  a  deep  religious  motive,  which  taught,  how 
ever,  not  by  direct  speech,  but  by  allegory  and  symbol. 
With  the  new  key  to  our  understanding  which  the  study  of 
comparative  religion  has  put  in  our  hands,  the  ancient 
Greek  and  oriental  cults  have  come  to  have  a  new  significance 
and  a  new  beauty. 

A  belief  may  be  very  far  from  real  truth,  but  if  it  is 
sincere,  it  may  yet  be  life-preserving.  Whichever  form  of 
deity  any  worshiper  wishes  to  worship,  if  he  worships  in  spirit 
and  in  truth,  there  is  God.  God  has  many  tones  and  many 
ways  by  which  He  calls  man  unto  Himself.  God  dwells  at 
the  top  of  the  mountain,  and  many  are  the  paths  which 
lead  thither. 


ACT  I.     CAPRI.     IN  THE  YEAR  33  A.D. 


....  about  the  evening  the  vessel  was  becalmed  near  the  Isles 
Echinades,  whereupon  their  ship  drove  with  the  tide  till  it  was  carried 
near  the  Isles  of  Paxi;  when  immediately  a  voice  was  heard  calling 
unto  one  Thammoz;  which  Thammoz  was  a  mariner  of  Egypt.  He 
returned  no  answer  to  the  first  calls;  but  at  the  third  he  replied,  "Here, 
here.  I  am  the  man."  Then  the  voice  said  aloud  to  him,  "When  you 
are  arrived  at  Palodes,  take  care  to  make  it  known  that  the  Great  God 
Pan  is  dead."  Being  come  to  Palodes,  there  was  no  wind  stirring,  and 
the  sea  was  as  smooth  as  glass.  Whereupon  Thammoz,  standing  on  the 
deck  with  his  face  towards  the  land,  uttered  with  a  loud  voice  his 
message,  saying,  "The  Great  Pan  is  dead."  He  had  no  sooner  said  this 
than  they  heard  a  dreadful  noise,  not  only  of  one,  but  of  several  who 
groaned  and  lamented  with  a  kind  of  astonishment.  An  account  of  this 
was  soon  spread  over  Rome,  which  made  Tiberius  the  Emperor  send 
for  Thammoz.  And  he  seemed  to  give  such  heed  to  what  was  told  him 
that  he  earnestly  enquired  who  this  Pan  was. — PLUTARCH,  Moralia: 
Why  the  oracles  cease. 

The  lonely  mountains  o'er, 
And  the  resounding  shore 

A  voice  of  weeping  heard,  and  loud  lament. 

— MILTON,  Ode  on  the  Morning  of  Christ's  Nativity. 


ACT  I.    CAPRI.    IN  THE  YEAR  33  A.D. 

The  terrace  of  the  imperial  palace  of  the  emperor  Tiberius  in  the  isle 
of  Capri,  a  magnificent  structure  of  vast  extent  and  imposing  appear 
ance,  perched  on  a  rocky  promontory  above  the  sea,  from  the  edge  of 
which  U  is  a  sheer  drop  of  over  a  thousand  feet  to  the  shore  below.  It  is 
a  warm,  soft  night  in  April,  balmy  with  the  scent  of  spring.  The 
gentle  land  breeze  brings  over  the  bay  the  odor  of  jasmine  and  orange 
blossoms.  A  nightingale  is  singing  in  a  coppice  in  the  cherry  orchard 
near  by.  The  moon,  almost  full,  is  riding  high,  and  her  bright  light 
makes  an  argent  path  of  rippling  radiance  across  the  face  of  the  waters. 
The  mountains,  not  too  distant,  are  veiled  in  a  misty  haze,  half  light, 
half  moisture.  The  dead  cone  of  Vesuvius  looms  up  majestically,  its 
crown  still  covered  with  gleaming  patches  of  lingering  snow.  Along 
the  shore  a  few  lights  in  Puteoli  wink  and  blink,  and  shifting  reflec 
tions  come  from  Pompeii,  Herculaneum,  and  Stabiae.  The  solitary 
phare  on  Cape  Misenum  burns  with  steady  flame,  like  a  planet  fallen 
to  earth.  The  low  ripple  of  the  waves  upon  the  beach  far  beneath  may 
be  heard  like  a  muffled  undertone  to  the  throbbing  notes  of  the  nightin 
gale.  Tiberius  is  leaning  over  the  balcony  on  the  side  of  the  terrace 
toward  the  sea.  He  is  an  old  man  with  a  frowning,  even  morose 
countenance,  of  robust  appearance  in  spite  of  signs  of  age;  he  is 
deep  of  chest  and  broad  of  shoulders,  and  has  a  fair  complexion. 
The  most  striking  thing  about  him  are  his  eyes,  which  are  grey-blue, 
large,  and  very  penetrating  beneath  bushy  eyebrows.  Tiberius1 
hair  is  thin;  he  wears  an  ivy  wreath  upon  his  head,  and  when  he 
walks  a  slight  limp  is  observable  in  his  left  foot.  The  measured  tread 
of  the  centurion  of  the  guard  may  be  heard  as  he  paces  back  and  forth  in 
the  corridor  behind  a  row  of  columns  to  the  right  of  the  terrace,  through 
which  access  to  the  palace  is  given. 

TIBERIUS  (musing) 

Where  mighty  Rome  now  lies  outspread  was  once 
But  grass  and  hills.     Where  stands  the  Palatine 
Evander's  herd  its  pasturage  once  found. 
The  ancient  race  of  Rome  used  estimate 

ds) 


ZTbe  3Lost  ©racles 


Their  little  hearths  a  realm,  where  Remus'  house 
Is  perched.     The  founders  of  imperial  Rome 
Were  robed  in  skins  then.     Three  score  gathered  in 
A  mead  together  once  the  senate  made. 

And  now,  since  when  Rome  flung  back  Hannibal, 
A  foiled,  circuitous  adventurer, 
From  'fore  her  gates,  might  and  dominion, 
Power,  majesty  and  principality, 
Like  Pelion  on  Ossa  she  has  piled 
Until  her  empire's  topmost  pinnacle 
Doth  rake  the  very  stars.    Her  eagle  wings 
Stretch  from  the  Gates  of  Hercules  unto 
The  Caucasus;  from  cataracts  of  Nile 
Far  as  Germania's  forests  deep.    O  Rome, 
Rome,  Rome!    O  wolf  of  Mars,  thou  wert  the  best 
Of  nurses.     From  thy  milk  what  walls  have  sprung! 

And  yet,  what  boots  it  all  ?    Have  not  empires 
Their  seasons,  like  the  year  ?    Their  spring  of  birth, 
The  summer  of  their  power,  the  autumn  of 
Their  declination,  then  the  winter  long 
Of  void  and  death  till  they  are  covered  o'er 
By  myth  and  legend  hoar — a  thousand  years 
Of  pulsing  life,  perchance,  reduced  to  five 
Brief  lines  upon  the  page  of  some  obscure 
Thucydides.    Shall  some  strange  traveler 
From  Hindustan,  in  days  that  are  to  come, 
Climb  the  steep  Capitol,  perchance,  to  view 
The  mighty  ruins  of  the  Palatine 
Across  the  Forum's  monumental  woe  ? 
The  indecipherable  boasts  of  kings! 
The  cry  of  vanished  empires  past  and  gone! 
Where's  Ninevah  ?  the  Pharaohs  ?  Cyrus  now  ? 
Can  Memnon  musical  the  secret  tell  ? 

(16) 


Ube  OLost  ©racles 


Or  the  huge  wedge-shaped  pyramids  ?    Do  they 

Still  keep  within  their  hearts  of  porphyry 

The  embalmed  corses  of  the  Pharoahs  dead  ? 

Go  thither:  see  how  even  their  granite  walls 

Are  pierced  by  vulgar  raveners  of  tombs; 

Houses  of  clay  are  they  also,  whose  sides 

Are  crushed  before  the  moth.     "Res  accendent 

Lumina  rebus — things  shall  light  the  torch 

Of  things."    Lucretius,  thou  dost  bewray 

Thine  own  philosophy.     Shall  not  the  flame 

That's  Rome  burn  out  ?    Empires  are  not  like  stars, 

Perduring  ever  in  their  firmament. 

From  Romulus  the  Romans  of  today 

Naught  but  the  name  possess.     Spawn  of  the  newt 

Are  they,  not  whelps  of  that  she-wolf  whose  dugs 

Nurtured  on  iron  milk  that  sturdy  babe. 

Is  't  fate,  immutable  necessity, 
Or  chance,  mere  circumstance,  that  rules  the  world  ? 
Is  our  beginning  and  our  end,  is  man 
Himself  naught  to  the  gods  ?  the  course  of  Rome 
No  more  than  children's  markings  in  the  sand, 
Or  line  in  water  writ  ?    Is  all  that  brain 
And  hand  of  man  have  patiently  achieved 
To  ruination  doomed  ? — the  cumulate 
Results  of  centuries  of  labor,  thought, 
By  vagrant  winds  of  history  to  be 
Dispersed  ?    Is  Rome  to  sink  to  grassy  mounds 
O'er  whose  green  slopes  Campagna's  kine  shall  feed 
On  herbage  made  more  rich  by  what's  beneath  ? 
Tiberius  leans  over  the  parapet  and  moodily  regards  the  farther  shore. 
Suddenly  he  starts. 

....  A  boat.     By  all  the  gods,  what  mystery's 
Afloat  ?    Who  dare  invade  the  privacy 

d7) 


Ube  Xost  ©racles 


Which  I  have  sought  within  this  island,  far 

From  the  noisome  crowd  of  Rome  ?    Are  kings 

Like  'pothecaries,  to  be  routed  out 

At  midnight  by  some  witless  wight  who  thinks 

His  grievance  large  as  an  affair  of  state  ? 

....  Like  some  huge  water-beetle  it  doth  look, 

Its  oars  outstretched  as  slender  insects'  legs 

Oft  seen  in  stagnant  ponds  in  summer  time 

Black  bats  and  evil  birds  do  fly  by  night; 
The  honest  man  is  not  afraid  of  light. 

The  measured  plash  of  oars  is  faintly  heard,  then  the  rattle  of  a  chain 
being  run  through  an  iron  ring  on  the  mole  below.  A  man  climbs 
out  of  the  boat  and  without  hesitation  begins  to  ascend  the  steep  path 
up  the  face  of  the  cliff.  The  ring  of  swift  and  firm  footsteps  is  heard 
in  the  corridor,  and  in  another  minute  the  centurion  of  the  guard 
appears,  followed  by  a  tall,  half-nude  Egyptian,  clad  in  the  costume  of 
a  sailor,  his  forehead  tightly  bound  with  a  linen  bandeau.  His 
swarthy  visage  is  sombre,  his  eyes  are  deep  and  grave;  his  speech 
plaintive  and  in  mixed  Greek  and  Latin. 

CENTURION  (saluting) 
Majesty! 

TIBERIUS 

Who  dares  the  isolation 
Of  Tiberius  to  penetrate  must 

Bear  important  news.     Who  art  thou  ?    Whence  art 
Thou  ?    Thy  look  betokens  thee  a  sailor. 
Speak. 

THAMMOZ 

My  name  is  Thammoz.     Out  of  the  great 
Port  of  Alexandria  I  sail  as 
Pilot  of  a  corn  ship  bringing  Egypt's 
Tributary  wheat  Rome's  red  maw  to  fill. 
Much  have  I  travelled.    Neither  Jason  nor 
(18) 


TTbc  %ost  ©racles 


Ulysses  farther  voyaged,  or  marvels  more 

In  strange  seas  saw  than  I  have  seen.     I've  sailed 

'Twixt  Scylla  and  Charybdis;  I  have  heard 

The  sirens'  song,  and  'scaped  from  Circe's  wiles; 

Upon  the  Euxine's  waters  black  I've  seen 

The  phosphorescent  spectres  of  men  dead 

For  years,  like  seaweed  floating  in  the  foam; 

Off  Cythera,  against  the  rosy  dawn, 

I  once  saw  Aphrodite  from  the  wave 

Rise  like  an  exhalation,  her  white  limbs 

With  bright  sea  water  dripping,  her  moist  hair 

Curling  in  tendrils  delicate  around 

Her  shapely  head,  bedecked  with  orchids  pink 

Plucked  from  the  floor  of  the  Aegean  Sea; 

At  midnight  off  Great  Syrtis  have  I  met 

The  black  and  silent  barque  of  Serapis, 

Laden  with  human  souls,  which  oarless  moves, 

Nor  sails  nor  rudder  has.     My  heart  has  ne'er 

Felt  fear.     Such  sights  befall  a  sailor's  lot. 

But  seven  days  ago,  on  such  a  night 
As  this,  along  Arcadia's  shore  I  heard 
A  voice.     "Thammoz,"  it  cried.    At  first  no  heed 
I  gave.    One's  eyes  and  ears  at  sea  do  oft 
Play  prankish  tricks.     Again  the  voice  rang  out, 
And  this  time  right  imperiously,  "Thammoz, 
Thammoz,  dost  thou  hear  ?"    A  great  fear  gripped  me 
Then,  and  timorously  I  answered  hail  with 
Hail.     "Who  calls?"  I  cried.    Across  the  water 
Came  reply:  " Pan  is  dead.     Great  Pan  is  dead. 
HAN  MEFAS  TE0NHKH.     Go  thou  to  Rome. 
Tell  thou  Tiberius  this  oracle." 

Then  all  the  air  and  waters  round  till  dawn 
With  wailings,  sobbings,  dirges,  did  resound. 

(19) 


Tlbe  Xost  trades 


The  sky  was  clear,  and  yet  it  wept  with  rain ; 
The  bosom  of  the  sea,  as  't  were  with  pent 
Emotion  torn,  did  rise  and  fall  and  tossed 
Like  fevered  sleeper  whose  untranquil  mind 
Pictures  fantastic  shapes  upon  the  walls 
Of  the  dark  chamber  where  he  lies  in  pain. 

During  this  strange  recital  Tiberius  has  stood  silent,  his  eyes  intently 
fixed  on  Thammoz'  face.  His  glance  alone  betrays  the  depth  of  his 
emotion. 

TIBERIUS  (hoarsely) 

Thou  are  not  mad.    The  gods  are,  Thammoz.    They 

Communicate  with  man  by  oracle 

And  sign,  by  portent,  dream  and  omen  strange. 

But  Delphi's  self  were  baffled  by  this  word 

Out  of  Arcadia  come.     "  Great  Pan  is  dead." 

Methought  that  Arcady  was  least  among 

My  provinces.    Degenerate  Greece,  is  this 

Thy  subtle  vengeance  for  Rome's  tyranny  ? 

That  thou  wouldst  frustrate  Rome's  proud  empire  by 

Destruction  of  the  gods  ? — the  twelve  great  gods 

Upon  whose  will  her  sovereignty  is  piered  ? 

THAMMOZ 

Take  heed,  Tiberius.    May  there  not  be 
Truth  even  in  Arcady  ?  as  little  towns 
Sometimes  to  great  men  give  nativity. 

TIBERIUS 

Thou  art  bold  of  speech Stand  thou  here  and 

wait. 

This  cryptic  utterance  solution  prompt 
Demands.     I  will  consult  Thrasyllus  straight. 

The  emperor  daps  his  hands.  The  centurion  of  the  guard  appears 
and  salutes. 

(20) 


ZTbe  Xost  trades 


CENTURION 

Your  majesty  hath  called. 

TIBERIUS 

Bring  hither  now 

And  speedily,  Thrasyllus,  from  the  dome 
Where  he  consults  the  motions  of  the  stars. 

The  guard  salutes  and  withdraws.  While  he  is  waiting  Tiberius 
paces  back  and  forth  moodily.  Thammoz  seems  lost  in  reverie. 
There  is  dead  silence.  Even  the  nightingale's  song  is  hushed. 


The  gods  die  not,  and  yet  their  gifts  may  fail. 


CENTURION  (returning) 
Behold  he  comes. 

Enter  Thrasyllus,  the  emperor's  astrologer.  He  is  a  little  man  of 
grave  dignity  vestured  in  a  sky-blue  robe  broidered  with  gold  and 
purple;  his  head-dress  is  a  yellow-gold  turban  so  arranged  that  a 
front  view  of  him  gives  the  effect  of  a  nimbus  or  halo  around  his  head. 

THRASYLLUS 

Kings  are  like  stars.    The  world 
Doth  worship  them. 

TIBERIUS 

I  have  a  problem  which 

Shall  test  the  metal  of  thy  sorceries. 

THRASYLLUS 

Let  the  emperor  speak,  and  I  shall  tell 
The  truth  with  warrant,  else  am  I  a  seer 
That  knows  not  how  to  wheel  an  orrery, 
And  read  the  constellations  and  the  signs. 
The  Babylonian  Archytas  gat 
Me,  and  the  gods  bear  witness  I  have  not 
Beshamed  my  kin.    What  rare  thing  is  it  that 
The  emperor  requireth  ? 

(21) 


ZTbe  OLost  ©raclcs 


TIBERIUS  (signing  to  Thammoz) 

Rehearse 
Thy  tale. 

THAMMOZ 

The  signs  and  wonders  of  the  sea 
Are  nothing  strange  to  me.     For  they  who  go 
Down  to  the  sea  in  ships  are  doomed  to  learn 
More  things  than  landsmen  on  the  steadfast  shore 
Do  dream  in  their  philosophy.     Seven  days 
Ago,  hard  by  Arcadia's  coast,  my  ship 
Her  passage  made,  when  sudden  from  the  shore 
A  voice  imhuman,  yet  articulate 
Did  cry  three  several  times  my  name:  " Thammoz, 
Thammoz,  Thammoz."    At  first  I  listed  not, 
Surmising  that  imagination  duped 
The  sensual  ear.    Yet  thrice  again  it  came. 
"Who  calls  ?"     I  hailed,  and  marvelled  echo  none 
The  viewless  voice  gave  back,  for  we  were  less 
Than  fifty  fathoms  distant  from  a  cliff 
So  high  Deucalion  might  have  refuge  found 
Upon  its  frowning  top.     And  then  meseemed 
The  crag  itself  gave  voice  and  cried  aloud: 
"  Go,  tell  the  emperor  Tiberius 
Great  Pan  is  dead."    A  mighty  dread  seized  hold 
Upon  me  then,  I  shook  with  fear.     For  all 
Around  the  air  was  vibrant  with  strange  cries; 
The  water's  face  did  creep  and  crinkle  like 

A  serpent's  cast-off  skin Dawn  brought  surcease, 

Yet  still  in  dreams  I  hear  that  anguished  cry, 

As  't  were  some  wounded  god This  is  my  tale. 

TIBERIUS 

Read  me  this  riddle  now. 

(22) 


Ube  Xost  ©racies 


THRASYLLUS 

I  must  survey 

The  stars.     No  common  magic  will  avail. 
There's  more  of  truth  in  poetry  and  myth 
Than  dwells  in  all  the  prose  was  every  writ. 
Arcadia  was  Hellas'  primal  home 
Of  poesy  and  song  and  prophesy. 
Though  Greece  be  sunk  upon  her  lees,  mayhap 
The  lyric  cry,  the  authentic  note,  vibrates 
Within  her  yet.     Still,  still,  with  living  voice 
For  them  with  spiritual  sense  endowed, 
Hellas  her  thunders  and  her  whispers  has. 
Perfect  beauty  is  imperishable. 
A  race  may  forfeit  all  its  ancient  worth ; 
But  truth,  with  alienated  majesty, 
Returns  at  last,  as  every  drop  of  blood 
Comes  back  unto  its  dwelling  in  the  heart. 

TIBERIUS  (drily) 

For  a  Chaldaean  thou  dost  much  extol 
A  people  alien  unto  thee.    What  of 
Rome  thinkest  thou  ? 

THRASYLLUS 

Two  voices  there  are.    One 
Of  the  land,  one  of  the  sea.     So  't  is  of 
Nations,  too.     One  lives  for  sense  and  action; 
One  for  the  mind,  the  heart,  the  soul.     The  choice 
Is  free.     But  made,  what  destiny  awaits 
Is  fixed  and  ordered  as  the  skyey  spheres. 

TIBERIUS  (irritably) 

What  augury  dost  thou  attach  unto 
This  tale? 

(23) 


TIbe  Xost  ©racles 


THRASYLLUS 

For  every  man  of  woman  born 
There  is  a  star.    Never  was  there  but  one 
Pylades,  or  but  one  Orestes,  fain 
His  life  to  give  away  to  save  a  friend. 
Most  men  to  one  another  hostile  are; 
And  therefore  does  the  world  have  war,  while  peace, 
Fair  exile,  wanders  up  and  down  the  earth 
Like  Egypt's  Isis  seeking  for  the  lost 

Osiris  in  Nilotic  fens But  this 

Strange  sign  deals  not  with  war.     For  all  war  comes 
From  man,  not  God.    This  near  concerns  the  soul. 

TIBERIUS 

An  end  to  thy  philosophy.    Read  now 
This  planetarium. 

He  indicates  a  table  near  by  on  which  is  affixed  a  steel  mirror,  the 
face  of  which  is  covered  with  geometrical  lines  graven  on  the  surface, 
which  intersect  at  many  angles.  The  signs  of  the  zodiac  encircle  the 
mirror.  Thrasyllus  bends  over  the  table  and  for  some  minutes  attent 
ively  studies  the  reflection  of  the  stars  in  the  mirror,  while  Tiberius 
watches  him  with  visible  anxiety. 

THRASYLLUS 

The  stars  incline  .... 
Towards  Asia. 

He  hastily  traces  some  cabalistic  figures  upon  another  table  lightly 
covered  with  sand.  The  rising  wind  at  once  obliterates  them. 

TIBERIUS  ,,  .. 

Aos^t  omen! 

THRASYLLUS  ~,  £     , 

....  They  are  fixed 

Above  Judea  ....  o'er  Jerusalem 

Does  Caesar  trust  his  procurator  there  ? 

TIBERIUS 

Pontius  Pilate  ?    None  is  better  for  those 
Stiff-necked  Jews He  knows  the  law. 

(24) 


ZTbe  QLost  ©racles 


THRASYLLUS  (with  great  agitation} 

Aye.    But  does 

He  faithfully  sustain  Rome's  justice  there  ? 
He  has  delivered  over  to  the  rage 
Of  the  chief  priests  one  who  is  innocent. 
By  them  he  has  been  crucified.     I  see 
Him  hanging  on  the  tree,  and  bloody  sweat 
Is  on  his  brow.    The  scandal  of  this  cross 
Shall  bring  disaster  down  on  all  the  gods. 
Their  sanctuaries  shall  be  crushed.    Their  priests 
Shall  fail.    Across  their  cold  white  altar  stones 
The  snail  shall  chart  his  path.    The  Great  God  Pan, 
Of  truth,  is  dead!    The  gods  are  mortal,  too! 

TIBERIUS  (fiercely) 

The  empire  ?  and  the  emperor  ?  .  .  .  . 

THRASYLLUS 

....  The  sky 

Is  mute.    The  wind  is  sinister.     Didst  thou 
Not  see  this  moment  past  how  mockingly 
It  swept  the  fatal  sand  and  blotted  out 
The  signs  I  writ  ? 

TIBERIUS  (striving  to  shake  off  his  sense  of  fear) 

Bah!    What  to  Rome  is  one 
Cross  more  ? 

THRASYLLUS 

Caesar,  say  not  so.     Truth  may  be 
Imprisoned,  tortured,  scourged,  chained,  crucified; 
It  is  the  weakest,  yet  the  mightiest  thing 
In  all  the  world.     However  darkly  read, 
Scorn  not  the  intimation  of  the  signs. 
Remember  how  great  Julius  failed  to  heed 
The  soothsayer  upon  the  Ides  of  March; 

(25) 


TTbc  Xost  ©racles 


How  there  was  found  beneath  his  toga  clasped, 
By  his  own  blood  incarnadined,  the  fell 
Papyrus  that  too  vainly  warned  him  of 
The  assassin's  dagger.     Be  thou  also  warned. 
A  strange,  wild  word  of  eastern  sibyl  long 
Ago  comes  to  me  now.     "Repent,  repent." 
When  comes  the  day  of  visitation,  what 
Wilt  thou  do  ?    Whither  wilt  thou  flee  for  help  ? 
Where  wilt  thou  leave  thy  glory  ?     Caesar,  think. 
Dominion  of  the  great  alone  would  fain 
Be  feared.    Yet  who  is  to  be  feared  but  God  ? 
Out  of  His  power  what  can  be  wrested  or 
Withdrawn  ?     Say  when,  or  whither,  or  by  whom. 

TIBERIUS  (moodily,  yet  with  a  ring  of  pride  in  his  voice) 
While  looms  the  Pantheon  Rome  shall  stand.    When 
Falls  the  Pantheon,  then  Rome  shall  fall; 
And  when  Rome  falls,  the  world.    For  all  the  gods 
Are  congregated  there,  and  vigil  keep. 
Thou  sayest  God.     I  say  the  gods.     'T  is  they 
Who  fill  life  full  of  love;  't  is  they  who  caused 
Savagery  to  cease  and  hallowed  holy 
Rites;  't  is  they  who  gave  men  laws  and  set  up 
Courts,  and  men's  minds  filled  with  thoughts  of  justice. 

THRASYLLUS 

Nay,  Caesar,  not  the  gods,  but  God  these  fair 
Inventions  gave  to  men. 

TIBERIUS 

Peace.     Thou  shalt  yet 

Perish  of  thy  wisdom,  my  Thrasyllus. 

THRASYLLUS 

The  stars  in  their  courses  be  against  thee, 
Caesar,  and  'gainst  Rome.     Memento  crucis! 

(26) 


ACT  II.    PATMOS 


I,  John,  was  in  the  isle  that  is  called  Patmos,  for  the  word  of 
God  and  for  the  testimony  of  Jesus. — Revelation  1:9. 

Monumenta  aperta  sunt,  et  multa  corpora  sanctorum  qui  dormi- 
erant,  surrexerunt.  Et  exeuntes  de  monumentis  post  resurrectionem 
Ejus,  venemnt  in  civitatem,  et  apparuerunt  multis. — Matthew  27:52. 


ACT  II.    PATMOS 

The  isle  of  Patmos.  It  is  little  more  than  a  mass  of  volcanic  rocks 
covered  with  stunted  cedars  and  cypresses.  In  the  distant  offing  the 
sail  of  a  vessel  may  be  discerned.  The  harsh  scream  of  the  fish-hawk, 
and  the  heavy  puffing  of  the  dolphin  accentuate  the  loneliness  of  the 
situation.  In  the  foreground,  amid  a  grove  of  dwarf  trees  on  a  low 
promontory,  is  seated  a  very  old  man  vestured  in  white  and  with  a  staff 
in  his  thin  hands.  His  face  is  that  of  a  mystic,  almost  shining  from 
the  spiritual  effulgence  within  his  soul.  His  voice,  when  he  speaks, 
in  spite  of  his  advanced  years,  is  astonishingly  deep  and  sonorous. 
It  is  the  apostle  John,  the  last  survivor  of  the  twelve  disciples  of  Jesus. 
He  is  surrounded  by  seven  of  his  disciples,  who  lean  eagerly  upon  his 
words.  The  chief  of  these  is  Cephas,  whose  tenderness  and  devotion  to 
his  master  is  strongly  manifested. 

CEPHAS 

Dear  Father,  is  it  true,  when  Jesus  was 
Delivered  from  the  sepulchre,  the  graves 
Were  oped  and  many  bodies  of  the  saints 
Which  slept  arose,  and  walked  in  cerements  clad 
Into  Jerusalem,  whom  many  saw  ? 

JOHN  (slightly  trembling  with  emotion,  and  closing  his  eyes  as  if 
to  recover  a  vanished  dream) 
Children  mine,  that  which  I  saw  with  my  own 
Eyes  shall  I  declare.     But  yesterday  it 
Seems.     These  things  are  true,  and  I,  John,  of  them 

Witness  bear:  that  which  Cephas  saith  is  so 

....  None  lives  who  saw  Him  in  the  flesh  save  me 

To  bear  that  record I,  John,  who  on  that 

Night  perfidious  in  which  He  was  betrayed 

Leaned  on  His  bosom Aye,  't  is  true  the  night 

He  died  upon  the  cross,  the  dead  in  Christ 

(29) 


Ube  Xost  ©racles 


Arose,  and  came  into  Jerusalem 

The  Son  of  God  expired  on  the  tree 

A  frightful  tempest  o'er  the  whole  land  raged. 
I  felt  the  earthquake  wherewith  Nature,  in 

Great  awe,  shook  the  foundations  of  the  hills 

Thick  darkness  covered  all  the  sky;  the  moon 
Was  red  like  blood;  the  ground  like  ashes  seemed. 
It  was  the  agony  of  all  things,  earth 

And  man From  Golgotha,  how  I  returned 

To  my  poor  lodging  in  the  city,  know 

I  not I  dragged  myself  along,  feeling 

The  hard  stones  of  the  path  as  't  were  my  feet 

Were  eyes.    Within  the  gate  I  numbly  felt 

The  walls  of  houses,  touching,  as  one  blind, 

The  pillars  of  the  porticos.    So  worked 

I  my  way  until  at  last  the  quarter 

Where  the  remnant  sorrowing  of  them  that 

Loved  Him  dwelt Jesus'  mother  followed  me, 

With  Mary  Magdalene.    All  we  did  reel 
And  stagger  in  our  steps  like  ships  in  storm. 
Came  Peter,  afar  off.    Among  us  all 
The  bravest  were  the  women.    Sad,  yet  borne 
Up  by  a  noble  confidence,  these  walked. 
The  mystery  which  like  a  wall  blanked  us, 
To  them  seemed  as  a  door  whose  portal  oped 
Upon  an  undiscovered  country,  far 
Beyond  the  sense,  or  number,  time  and  space. 
....  The  storm  abated.     O'er  Jerusalem 
A  death-like  silence  hung.     The  Pascal  moon 
At  last  from  forth  behind  the  wrack  of  clouds 
Began  to  look,  and  shone  on  Calvary. 
....  Mary  Magdalene  and  I  the  house  roof 
Sought  above.     Below,  within  the  house,  sad, 

(30) 


TTbe  Xost  trades 


And  alone,  knelt  Mary,  mother  of  God 

In  prayer  for  them  who  slew  her  Son We  two 

In  silence  gazed  upon  the  red-tiled  roofs, 

Beyond  the  walls  into  the  valleys  dim, 

And  on  the  mountains  grey  with  so  great  grief 

That  nature  was  convulsed Ever  our  eyes 

To  that  bad  eminence  were  turned  where  stood 

Those  three  trees  gaunt  against  the  bitter  sky. 

Near  us  the  Temple's  mighty  dome  arose, 

Its  dark  bulk  vague  and  sinister.     In  front 

The  gorgeous  Porch  was  stretched,  from  which  He  drave 

The  money-changers  and  the  base  born  crowd 

Of  peddlers  who  on  worship  battened Round 

Were  spread  the  houses  of  the  priests,  the  home 

Of  pitilessness,  pride,  hypocrisy 

....  At  midnight  the  racked  moon  blew  clear.    A  cold 

Wind  rose,  colder  than  Caucasus'  iced  breath. 

At  first  it  was  a  murmur,  then  it  seemed 

Like  tramp  of  legions  which  invisible, 

Were  marching  on  Jerusalem.     Soon,  soon, 

From  all  directions — in  dry  torrent's  bed, 

In  deep  ravines,  along  the  rocky  paths, 

Across  the  vineyards,  in  the  olive  groves, 

We  saw  fantastically  moving  forms, 

Phantoms  in  gleaming  whiteness  clothed,  which  seemed 

Not  so  much  to  be  walking  as  to  glide, 

Like  unto  strips  of  wind-blown  fog Then  said 

The  Magdalene,  "The  spirits  of  the  dead 

Are  come  to  seek  the  living.     They  that  slept 

In  ancient  sepulchres  have  waked  to  greet 

His  resurrection."  ....  By  the  ramparts  stopped, 

The  ghostly  multitude  like  water  flowed 

Along  the  walls  until  the  gates  were  found. 

(31) 


ZTbe  Xost  trades 


Before  the  frightened  sentries'  eyes,  dilate 
With  terror,  this  procession  of  the  dead 
Poured  through  the  city  gate  with  silent  step 

And  slow The  mighty  past  of  Israel 

In  serried  shadows  marched.     The  patriarchs 
Were  there  with  turbans  white  upon  their  heads. 
Priests,  judges,  captains  of  Joshua  who 
Saw  the  moon  stand  still  on  Ajalon.     Kings 
Purple-clad,  high  priests  of  eld  in  broidered 
Surplices.     Barefooted  prophets  clothed  in 

Camel's  hair All  in  silence  onward  streamed. 

I  saw  Isaiah  there  in  robe  all  flecked 
With  crusted  blood,  walking  beside  one  whose 
Grey  countenance  with  iron  lines  was  graved. 
JT  was  Jeremias.    With  a  sad  salute 

They  hailed  Jerusalem Behind  them  walked 

Ezekiel,  with  look  of  mystery 
On  his  thin  face.     Of  sombre  grandeur  was 
The  countenance  of  Daniel,  whose  dread  words 
Like  a  scorched  flower  had  withered  Babylon. 
....  Anon  came  figures  lamentable,  those 
With  sorrow  bowed,  who  suffered  poverty, 
Who  had  anhungered,  been  outcast,  the  sick, 
Slaves,  widows,  orphans,  all  the  victims  of 
The  priests  and  Pharisees,  troops  of  exiles 
From  countries  far  away,  the  innocents 

Of  Herod's  massacre  at  Bethlehem 

....  With  stifled  murmurs  and  with  sobbings  deep, 
With  timid  utterance  like  whispered  prayers, 
This  haggard  legion  of  the  dead  enfiled 
Hour  after  hour  before  us,  while  we  stood 
Like  frozen  monuments  upon  the  roof 

And  watched All  disappeared  at  last  within 

(32) 


TTbe  %ost  ©racles 


The  Temple  vast  whose  great  bronze  gates,  untouched 

By  mortal  hands,  oped  wide,  and  silent  shut 

Again The  last  leaf  on  the  bough  am  I 

John's  voice  trails  ojf  so  that  his  disciples  bend  eagerly  to  hear  him. 
As  he  ceases,  over-awed,  they  silently  steal  away  leaving  him  alone, 
sitting  as  if  dreaming. 

....  All  things  continue  as  they  were Rome's  rod 

Like  iron  is  upon  the  nations'  backs 

The  promise  of  His  coming  ....  Lord  ....  how  long  ? 
....  How  beautiful,  how  beautiful  shall  be 

His  feet  upon  the  hills When  shall  the  last 

Trump  sound  ?    When,  when,  shall  this  corruption  put 
On  incorruption  ?  .  .  .  .  Death,  where  is  thy  sting  ? 
Or  grave  thy  victory?  ....  Faith,  faith!  ....  Wait, 

wait, 

In  patience.     Knowst  thou  not  the  martyrs'  blood 
Is  seed  unto  the  church?  ....  Faith,  faith!    Thy  word 
Is  lamp  unto  my  feet  and  light  unto 
My  path.     O  soul  disconsolate,  for  his 
Appointed  time  the  vision  lingers  yet. 
The  dreams  of  saints  are  God's  thoughts  after  Him. 
The  archangel  Astrophel  abruptly  appears  before  the  apostle. 

ARCHANGEL 

Apostle  John,  awake.     Because  thou  wert 

The  Son  of  Thunder  called,  He  that  appoints 

The  thunder  hath  sent  me.    Make  haste.     Thine  eyes 

Shall  see  the  King  in  all  His  glory,  they 

Shall  look  upon  the  land  that  is  far  off. 

The  Day  of  Judgment  draweth  nigh,  and  thou 

Shall  see  God  sitting  on  His  throne  of  clouds. 

In  intense  astonishment  and  awe  John  falls  upon  his  face  before  the 
angel  as  if  in  worship. 

(33) 


ZTbe  Xost  ©racles 


ARCHANGEL 

See  thou  do  it  not.     Worship  God.     Behold 
This  wand.     I  am  God's  angel  messenger 
Unto  thee  sent  to  bear  thee  straight  to  heaven. 
Terrible  things  in  righteousness  await; 
The  world's  assize  impends.     For  time  and  times 
And  dividing  of  time  be  ended  now. 


(34) 


ACT  III.    SPACE:    THE  SEVEN  HEAVENS 


I  saw  a  Point Around  the  Point  a  circle  of  fire  was  whirl 
ing  ....  and  this  was  by  another  circumcinct,  and  that  by  the 
third,  and  the  third  then  by  the  fourth;  by  the  fifth  the  fourth,  and 
then  by  the  sixth  the  fifth.  Thereon  the  seventh  followed  ....  and 
that  zone  had  the  clearest  flame  from  which  the  Pure  Spark  was  least 
distant. — DANTE,  Paradiso,  canto  xxviii. 


ACT  III.    SPACE:    THE  SEVEN  HEAVENS 

FIRST  HEAVEN 

Space.    Nothing  is  visible  except  the  angel,  majestically  flying,  like 
an  eagle,  and  sustaining  the  apostle  John  with  his  outstretched  hand. 

JOHN 

For  thirty  days  these  folded  mists  have  we 
Been  traversing.    Heaven  seemeth  far  to  me. 

ANGEL 

Peace,  peace,  grave  saint.    Heaven's  golden  state  is 

bound 

By  seven  zones  of  flaming  ramparts  round. 
Wider  than  distance  be  from  west  to  east 
Each  several  zone.    This  outer-most  is  least 
In  breadth.    Look  down,  and  open  wide  thy  lids. 
What  seest  thou  ? 

JOHN 

Than  Egypt's  pyramids 
Vaster,  and  chiselled  square,  a  rock  I  see; 
Lord  Angel,  what  is  it  ?    Tell  unto  me. 

ANGEL 

It  is  Earth's  corner-stone,  by  God's  right  hand 
Set  there,  when  God  the  waters  made  to  stand, 
And  separate  the  seas  from  the  dry  land. 
What  seest  thou  upward  ? 

JOHN 

I  see  pillars  grand, 

As  't  were  the  fingers  of  God's  mighty  hand; 
Each  one  seems  plinthed  upon  a  separate  world, 
Their  chapiters  in  cloud  and  darkness  furled. 

(37) 


Ube  Xost  ©racles 


The  columns  vast  in  Dian's  pillared  nave 

In  Ephesus  were  but  a  beggar's  stave 

To  them  compared.     What  be  they,  Angel  Guide  ? 

ANGEL 

The  columns  of  God's  house  thou  hast  descried; 
These  are  the  pillars  of  the  firmament 
Whereto  the  rafters  of  the  sky  be  bent. 
A  gigantic  door  appears. 

JOHN 

Are  we  now  come  unto  the  gate  of  heaven  ? 

ANGEL 

Thou  hast  forgotten  that  I  told  thee  seven 

Zones,  and  each  one  wider  than  the  last, 

Encircle  space  ere  heaven  is  overpast. 

This  is  the  House  of  Cloud,  behind  whose  hold 

God  keeps  the  woolly  clouds  in  skyey  fold. 

On  fair  days  in  the  earth  thou  hast  espied 

The  shepherd  winds  them  drive  to  pastures  wide, 

To  feed  upon  the  flowery  stars,  and  crop 

The  grasses  on  the  bright  moon's  mountain  top. 

JOHN 

How  wilt  thou  enter  ?    Is  thy  magic  rod 
Sovran  to  operate  the  bolts  of  God  ? 

ANGEL  (making  the  sign  of  the  cross  with  his  wand  before  the 
gate) 

Portal  to  my  bidding  bowed, 
Open  thou  the  Gate  of  Cloud; 
Honor  this  majestic  sign, 
Symbol  of  the  Godhead  trine. 
The  door  silently  swings  open  and  they  enter. 

(38) 


TIbe  Xost  trades 


SPACE:  SECOND  HEAVEN 
JOHN 

Lo,  sixty  days  thy  potent  wings  have  fanned 
This  high,  thin  atmosphere.     Is  not  thy  hand 
Fatigued  with  bearing  me,  poor  wingless  wight, 
Through  these  dominions  of  eternal  light  ? 

ANGEL 

God's  ministers,  that  on  His  errands  speed, 

His  flaming  avatars,  no  respite  need. 

The  margin  of  this  zone  is  near.    Before 

Thine  eyes  ere  long  shall  show  another  door  .... 

Lo,  yonder.     Seest  thou  not  the  ancient  posts 

Mortised  by  Him  who  is  the  Lord  of  Hosts  ? 

A  second  door  appears. 

This  is  the  Storehouse  of  the  Rains.    Lest  drouth 
Dry  up  the  earth  when  hot  winds  from  the  south, 
With  furnace  heat  do  blow,  God  doth  impound 
The  waters  here  against  what  time  the  ground 
Grows  parched,  when  harvests  wither  up,  and  hay, 
And  men's  tongues  black  with  thirst  do  curse  the  day. 
Then  is  the  threshold  lowered  that  the  rain 
Refresh  the  earth  and  make  it  green  again. 
The  angel  approaches  the  door  and  makes  the  sign  of  the  cross. 

Open,  open  slide  amain, 

Gate  of  Rain; 
Open,  open  wide  amain, 

Gate  of  Rain. 

The  double  doors  silently  slide  open.    They  enter  through. 

SPACE:  THIRD  HEAVEN 
JOHN 

Four  score  and  ten  days  are  agone,  and  still 
This  vague  immensity  the  eye  doth  fill 

(39) 


ZTbe  Xost  trades 


With  nothingness.     Nor  land  nor  sea  nor  star 

Is  visible.    Above,  below,  afar, 

Is  space,  space,  space.    Its  awful  amplitude 

Oppresses  the  imagination.     Rood 

Of  Christ!    How  God  mankind  hath  loved,  to  send 

His  Son  to  that  small  speck  at  the  world's  end! 

O  puny  Earth,  which  thinkest  thyself  large, 

Thou  'rt  but  a  grain  of  sand  on  the  far  marge 

Of  sea  so  vast  the  Milky  Way's  loud  roar 

Not  even  a  whisper  makes  on  thy  dim  shore. 

Man,  man,  what  art  thou  worth,  that  God  should  span 

Eternity  and  space,  thee  in  His  plan 

To  take  ? 

ANGEL 

Yet  man  loves  God  the  less,  ingrate! 
For  that  out  of  the  dust  God  did  create 
In  His  own  image  him.    O  gratitude, 
The  desert  stones  than  man  have  more  of  blood. 

JOHN 

Lo,  yonder  looms  another  door  more  vast 

Than  that  which  held  the  impounded  waters  fast. 

A  third  door  appears. 

ANGEL 

This  is  the  Granary  of  Snow  and  Hail. 

Hast  thou  not  seen,  when  summer  'gins  to  fail 

Upon  the  earth,  the  figure  of  the  Storm 

Stalk  o'er  the  sky,  an  awful,  giant  form, 

Flinging  broadcast,  like  sower  sowing  seed, 

The  white  flakes  of  the  snow  ?    With  frosty  brede 

His  coat  is  wove,  and  icy  are  his  shoon; 

And  while  he  sows,  he  sings  a  boisterous  tune. 

(40) 


ZTbe  Xost  ©racles 


ANGEL  (approaching  the  gate  with  outstretched  wand  and  mak 
ing  the  sign  of  the  cross.) 

Minions  of  Snow, 

Minions  of  Hail. 
God  is  all  mighty, 

His  word  shall  prevail. 
By  the  splendor  of  God, 

Whom  angels  adore, 
By  this  baton  of  God, 

Open  the  door. 
The  door  opens.    They  enter. 

SPACE:  FOURTH  HEAVEN 
JOHN 

O  chartless  road  in  air.    For  six  score  days, 
Wingless  with  winged,  I've  travelled  in  amaze. 
Horizons  on  horizons  leap.     The  noon 
Follows  the  morn,  night  treads  on  noon.    How  soon, 
Lord  Angel,  tell  me,  shall  we  reach  the  edge 
Of  this  celestial  zone  ?    Heaven's  glittering  ledge 
Seems  ever  and  forever  to  retreat 
Soever  fast  we  flying  follow  fleet. 
ANGEL 

From  centre  to  circumference  of  space 
Heaven  reaches.    But  the  Seventh  Heaven's  place 
(Centre  and  core  of  the  celestial  sphere), 
Is  distant  yet  for  year  of  days  from  here. 

JOHN 

Methought  the  wideness  of  God's  mercy  much; 
His  spatial  attribute  seems  wide  as  such. 

ANGEL 

Patience,  apostle  John.    God's  love  hath  charm 

To  reach  immensities  beyond  His  arm. 

A  fourth  door  appears,  from  behind  which  a  dull,  but  formidable 

growling  and  roaring  is  to  be  heard. 

(41) 


Xost  <§>racies 


JOHN 

For  my  timidity  mislike  me  not, 
Great  ministering  spirit.     Tell  me  what 
Wonders  or  terrors  wait  beyond  yon  door; 
Ne'er  thought  I  heaven  terrible  before. 

ANGEL 

This  is  the  Cavern  of  the  Thunders,  where, 
Enchained  like  dogs,  the  thunders  are  in  lair 
Until  what  time  Jehovah's  car  and  horse 
Ride  down  the  sky  in  brazen-clangored  course. 
Then  are  these  hounds  of  heaven  unleashed  to  run 
Beside  His  flaming  wheels  through  cloud  and  sun. 
Of  apparition  terrible,  and  voice 
Reverberant  like  lion's  roar,  the  noise 
These  storm  dogs  make  scatters  the  stars  in  flight, 
Moon  pales,  the  great  sun  veils  his  ruddy  light. 
But  be  thou  not  afraid.     My  sign  hath  charm 
To  shut  their  mouths.    Thou  shalt  receive  no  harm, 
The  angel  approaches  the  door  and  makes  the  sign  of  the  cross. 

Portal  of  Thunder, 
Ope  wide  asunder; 
Portal  of  brass, 
Let  thou  us  pass. 
Ye  hounds  of  heaven, 
By  the  stars  that  are  seven, 
Shut  your  fierce  jaws, 
Down,  down  on  your  paws 
Lest  the  angel  of  God 
You  scourge  with  his  rod. 

The  door  opens  and  they  enter. 

(42) 


ZEbe  %o9t  ©racles 


SPACE:  FIFTH  HEAVEN 
JOHN 

Thrice  fifty  days,  ah  me,  thrice  fifty  days! 
Lord  God  of  Hosts,  Omnipotent,  Thy  ways 
Are  past  the  finding  out  by  erring  man. 
Heaven  hath  few  milestones  mortal  eyes  may  scan. 
The  pilgrim  road  to  Palestine,  how  short 
It  was,  with  this  great  highway  to  Thy  court 
Compared.     Forgive  me,  God,  but  heaven  is  hard 
To  reach,  its  way  by  mighty  bastions  barred. 

ANGEL 

Thou  thinkest,  John,  of  time  in  terms  of  years. 
Finite  art  thou.     Time  unto  God  appears 
But  as  the  pastime  of  eternity; 
Years,  centuries,  millenniums,  to  thee 
Seem  an  eternity.     But  unto  Him 
Ages,  which  unto  thee  seem  hoar  and  dim, 
Are  less  than  watches  in  the  night — an  hour — 
Aye,  less,  the  minutes  of  an  April  shower. 

JOHN 

Wonder  on  wonder  piles.     I  never  thought 
God  was  so  great,  or  such  a  world  had  wrought. 

ANGEL 

Beyond  yon  cloud  of  glowing  topaz  mist 
Thou  shalt  see  loom  a  gate  of  amethyst. 
It  is  the  portal  of  His  Arsenal 
Where  dreadful  lightnings  lie  and  wait  His  call; 
Barbed,  forked,  ball,  chain,  spearhead  lightnings  stand 
A-quiver  day  and  night,  for  God's  red  hand 
Instant,  what  time  He  choose  the  levin-spar 
Across  the  frightened  sky  to  hurl  afar. 

(43) 


TIbe  Xost  ©racles 


JOHN 

I  am  afraid. 

ANGEL 

Be  not  afraid.    No  harm 

To  thee  shall  come.     God  vouched  to  me  a  charm 
Shall  soothe  their  temper  and  restrain  their  ire; 
And  quench  like  rain  the  hot  wrath  of  their  fire. 
Like  dogs  which  leap  to  lick  their  master's  hand 
They  shall  be  tame  with  us,  and  understand. 
A  fifth  door  appears,  which  the  angel  addresses. 

By  these  words  which  I  rehearse, 
By  incantation  of  this  verse, 

Portal  dread, 

Lift  up  thy  head. 
Livid  lightnings,  be  at  ease; 
Vivid  lightnings,  to  your  knees. 

The  gate  rises  like  a  portcullis.     They  enter. 

SPACE:  SIXTH  HEAVEN 
JOHN 

Six  times  the  sickled  moon  her  circle's  filled, 
And  evening  vapors  the  bright  dew  distilled 
Since  we  essayed  to  cross  this  zone  of  light; 
Still,  still,  good  angel,  thou  thy  tireless  flight 
Continuest.    How  far  is  yet  the  goal  ? 
Days  merge  with  months,  the  months  to  seasons  roll, 
While  we  through  limnless  aether  hasten  on, 
Like  pigeon-carriers  towards  the  dawn. 

ANGEL 

Thou  seest  that  distant  bar  of  light  like  gold 
'Neath  yonder  gate.     That  is  the  high  threshold 

(44) 


Ube  Xost  trades 


Of  Palace  of  the  Luminaries,  where 

God  keeps  the  stars  in  day  time  from  the  glare 

Of  the  hot  sun,  which  else  might  withered  be 

By  the  fierce  fervence  of  his  radiancy. 

Each  star  abides  within  a  separate  cell 

As  thou  hast  seen  in  honeycomb  bees  dwell; 

At  night,  like  bees  in  day  time,  they  fare  forth 

Across  the  skyey  fields,  east,  west,  south,  north, 

Each  with  his  lanthorn  hid  beneath  his  wing, 

Like  fireflies  around  Castalia's  spring. 

Within  this  house  is  balance  delicate: 

According  to  its  light  is  each  star's  weight, 

Like  jewels;  some  are  ruby  red,  some  blue, 

Some  be  like  topaz,  some  be  dazzling  white, 

As  lustrous  diamonds  are  they  for  light. 

The  sixth  door  appears.    It  is  studded  with  precious  stones  of  every 

kind,  and  has  the  magnificence  of  the  Apocalyptic  description.     The 

angel  again  addresses  the  door  with  magical  incantation. 

Ruby  red, 
Emerald, 
Sapphire  blue, 
Ye  are  called. 
Gate  of  Wonder, 
Gate  of  Light, 
Gate  of  Beauty, 
Beaming,  bright, 
Like  the  moon-moth's  fans 
Open  thou  thy  vans. 
The  gate  opens.    They  enter. 

SPACE:  SEVENTH  HEAVEN 
JOHN 

My  spirit  flies  in  feathers  now.    Meseems 
We  do  approach  the  haven  of  my  dreams. 

(45) 


Xost  trades 


ANGEL 

The  wall  of  heaven  is  great  and  high  and  wide, 

And  three  gates  open  in  each  several  side; 

Each  level  of  the  wall  is  different  stone: 

Jasper  and  emerald  and  chalcedone, 

Sardonyx,  sardius  and  chrysolite, 

Beryl  and  jacinth,  pearl  and  sapphire  bright, 

Rose  amethyst,  green  jade  and  chrysoprase, 

Ligure  and  turquoise,  carbuncle,  topaz. 

The  seventh  gate  appears.    The  angel  calls  in  a  loud  voice  as  if  hailing 

a  sentry. 

Lift  up  your  heads,  O  gates. 

God's  ministering  angel  waits; 
For  I  am  he  whom  God  late  sent 
To  earth  across  the  firmament. 

VOICE  FROM  WITHIN  THE  GATE  OF  HEAVEN 

Who  summons  Michael,  captain  of  the  host 

Of  heaven  ?    Who  art  thou  ?    From  what  distant  coast 

Of  earth  or  star  or  sun  art  thou  arrived  ? 

Angel  or  man  art  thou  ?    If  man,  art  shrived 

Of  thy  iniquities  by  instrument 

Of  Holy  Church  ?    If  angel,  wert  thou  sent 

By  God's  own  mandate  forth  from  heaven's  gate, 

And  now,  again,  outside  its  portal  wait  ? 

ANGEL 

Lord  Michael,  I  am  Astrophel.    Awhile 

Ago  was  I  despatched  to  Patmos  Isle 

To  bring  the  apostle  John  to  heaven's  gates. 

Much  wearied  with  fatigue,  he  with  me  waits. 
MICHAEL  (like  an  army  captain  giving  command] 

Ye  gates  of  heaven  on  golden  hinges  hung, 

Swing  wide  your  panels  now.    Give  tongue !    Give  tongue ! 

With  long,  reverberant  roar  the  gates  of  heaven  open.    John  and  the 

angel  enter. 

(46) 


ACT  IV.    HEAVEN:  THE  LAST  JUDGMENT 


I  was  in  the  spirit:  and,  behold,  a  throne  was  set  in  heaven,  and  one 
sat  on  the  throne.  And  He  that  sat  was  to  look  upon  like  a  jasper  and 
a  sardine  stone:  and  there  was  a  rainbow  round  about  the  throne,  in 
sight  like  unto  an  emerald. 

And  round  about  the  throne  were  four  and  twenty  seats:  and 
upon  the  seats  I  saw  four  and  twenty  elders  sitting,  clothed  in  white 
raiment;  and  they  had  on  their  heads  crowns  of  gold. 

And  out  of  the  throne  proceeded  lightnings  and  thunderings  and 
voices:  and  there  were  seven  lamps  burning  before  the  throne,  which 
are  the  seven  Spirits  of  God.  And  before  the  throne  there  was  a  sea  of 
glass  like  unto  crystal:  and  in  the  midst  of  the  throne,  and  round  about 

the  throne  were  four  beasts  full  of  eyes  before  and  behind And 

they  rest  not  day  and  night  saying,  Holy,  Holy,  Holy,  Lord  God 
Almighty,  which  was,  and  is,  and  is  to  come 

And  when  those  beasts  give  glory  and  honour  and  thanks  to  Him 
that  sat  on  the  throne,  who  liveth  for  ever  and  ever,  the  four  and  twenty 
elders  fall  down  before  Him  that  liveth  for  ever  and  ever,  and  cast 
their  crowns  before  the  throne,  saying:  Thou  art  worthy,  O  Lord,  to 
receive  glory  and  honour  and  power:  for  thou  hast  created  all  things, 
and  for  thy  pleasure  they  are  and  were  created. — Revelation  4 : 2-1 1 . 


ACT  IV.    HEAVEN:  THE  LAST  JUDGMENT 

The  Heaven  of  heavens.  The  throne  of  God,  high  and  lifted  up. 
God,  sitting  upon  the  throne,  is  invisible.  His  apparition  is  that  of  a 
gigantic  ruby-darting  flame  through  a  cloud  of  incense  which  hangs 
as  a  canopy  over  and  around  the  throne.  Seven  rainbows  are  arched 
over  the  throne.  Four  archangels  flank  the  throne  on  either  side: 
On  the  right,  Raphael,  Saraquel,  Remiel,  Azrael;  on  the  left:  Michael, 
Raguel,  Zophiel,  Uriel.  Seven  lamps,  from  which  vari-colored 
exhalations  rise,  burn  on  the  lowest  step  of  the  throne,  behind  each  of 
which  stands  an  angel  trumpeter.  At  the  left  front  is  a  squadron  of 
cherubim;  at  the  right  front  a  squadron  of  seraphim.  Sitting  in  double 
row,  in  the  center,  in  front  of  the  throne,  are  the  four  and  twenty 
elders,  clad  in  white  raiment,  and  facing  the  throne.  Behind  them 
are  ranged  the  noble  army  of  martyrs,  clad  in  red  robes  and  wearing 
crowns.  When  they  worship  they  fall  on  their  knees,  with  foreheads 
bowed  in  obeisance  upon  the  floor  of  heaven  in  adoration.  The  train  of 
God  fills  all  the  temple  of  heaven,  above  and  behind  the  throne.  As  far 
as  eye  can  reach  it  is  a  vast  panorama  of  themes,  theories,  and  rectitudes 
of  myriads  of  angels  gleaming  in  white  array,  stretching  even  unto 
the  outer  court  of  heaven.  An  old  man  stands,  an  isolated  and  rapt 
figure,  in  the  middle  foreground.  It  is  the  apostle  John. 

GRAND  CHORUS  IN  HEAVEN 

O  Thou  great  One,  before  whose  awful  nod 

Thrones  and  dominions  tremble  and  do  swoon: 
Thy  ways  are  on  the  sea,  the  mountains  trod 

By  thy  bright  feet  smoke  hot  beneath  thy  shoon. 

The  thunder  is  thy  voice,  the  levin-spar 

That  lambent  leaps  from  cloud  to  cloud  thy  glance; 

Moon  pales,  the  sun  grows  chill,  and  every  star 
Hides  from  the  storm  of  thy  dread  countenance. 

(49) 


Xost  ©racles 


Far  as  the  Milky  Way  o'er  space  extends, 
Where  zoned  Saturn  drives  his  chariot  flight, 

Themes,  theories  and  rectitudes  ascend 
Of  hierarchic  angels  gleaming  bright. 

Jasper  and  sardonyx  and  jacinth  pave 
The  parvis  laid  before  thy  burning  chair, 

O'er  which,  as  't  were  auroral  architrave, 
The  Seven  Rainbows  of  the  Presence  flare. 

Before  thy  throne  in  flaming  rhythm  whirled 
The  cherubim  and  seraphim  adore: 

Maker  and  Sovereign,  Judge  of  the  World, 
From  all  eternity  for  evermore. 

With  twain  coruscant  wings  their  face  they  hide, 
With  twain  their  feet,  with  twain  they  fly  along; 

Like  voice  of  falling  waters  in  a  tide 

Of  dreams  the  beat  of  their  celestial  song. 

Seven  Lamps,  the  which  seven  sleepless  angels  are, 
Do  guard  the  seat  wherefrom  thy  glories  blaze; 

Seven  Trumpeters,  and  each  a  jeweled  star, 
Herald  thy  power,  O  Lord,  Ancient  of  Days. 

CHORUS  OF  THE  FOUR  AND  TWENTY  ELDERS 
Heard  were  the  prophets, 

Heard  were  the  sages, 

The  seers  and  the  mages, 

In  vain  through  the  ages; 

Void  were  the  pages 
Of  Babel  and  Tyre, 

The  confusion  of  Egypt, 
Gomorrah's  dread  fire. 

(50) 


Ube  SLost  ©uacles 


CHORUS  OF  THE  CHERUBIM 

The  seas  in  terror  crawl, 

The  continents  do  shrink; 
-The  mountains,  toppling  fall, 

The  isles  of  ocean  sink. 
The  rivers  swoon  with  dread, 
The  sea  gives  up  its  dead. 

Pharpar  and  Abana 
Their  fountains  bright  withdraw 
To  subterranean  cisterns  deep. 
But  earth,  with  a  great  shout, 
Shall  spew  their  waters  out, 
High  as  the  stars  the  frightened  waves  shall  leap. 

ANTEPHONY  OF  THE  SERAPHIM 

Now  Bel  bows  down,  Nebo  stoops, 

Moloch  and  Rimmon  fail; 
Chemosh  withers,  Dagon  droops 

With  Merodach  and  Baal. 
Soon,  soon,  shall  blow  His  breath 
On  mooned  Ash  tore  th. 
Egyptian  Isis'  eyes 

Are  red  with  weeping  for 
Osiris.     Dead  he  lies, 

His  worship  is  no  more. 
Peor  and  Baalim 
Are  fallen  now  with  him. 

ODE  OF  AN  ANGEL 

God  is  not  prey  to  sleep  and  slumber; 
Naught  to  Him  is  time  and  number. 
What  was  before  He  knoweth; 
Wliat  shall  come  after  showeth; 

(51) 


ZEbe  Xost  trades 


All  space,  all  time,  He  filleth; 
Men  grasp  but  what  He  willeth. 
The  earth  is  His,  and  heaven, 
The  stars,  the  planets  seven. 
Of  nothing  hath  He  need. 
With  Him  who  shall  dare  plead  ? 

VOICE  OF  THE  REVEALING  ANGEL 

Apostle  John,  knowst  thou  what  these  things  be  ? 

JOHN 

No,  Lord.    Heaven  is  too  wonderful  for  me. 
Who  art  thou,  pray  ? 

VOICE  OF  REVEALING  ANGEL 

I  am  a  Voice.    Hear  thou: 
The  line  of  His  confusion  shall  God  draw 
Across  the  face  of  the  whole  earth  this  day. 
The  valley  of  decision  shall  be  choked 
With  multitudes  of  perished  men.    The  son 
And  moon  shall  darkened  be;  the  stars  shall  fall. 

The  Four  and  Twenty  Elders  rise  and  receive  John  into  their  midst. 

CHANT  OF  THE  FOUR  AND  TWENTY  ELDERS 

What  doth  the  past  require  ?  the  future  hold  in  store  ? 
No  more  is  past  or  present.    Forever,  ever  more, 
While  sinners  suffer  fires  that  never  shall  go  out, 
The  saints  in  heaven  shall  praise  God's  mercy  with  a 
shout. 

Enter  the  Revealing  Angel. 

REVEALING  ANGEL 

In  the  beginning  God 
Stretched  forth  His  awful  rod 
And  called  the  world  from  darkness  into  being. 

(52) 


ZTbe  OLost  trades 


He  fashioned  the  dry  land, 

He  bade  the  waters  stand; 
The  darkness  from  the  light  He  made  went  fleeing. 

Cattle  and  creeping  thing  and  bird, 
Beauty  of  flowers  and  trees  and  grass  came  from 
His  word. 

Observe  ye  every  thing: 

Stars  in  their  journeying, 
Sun,  moon,  in  their  appointed  orbits  glide; 

Betimes  they  rise  and  set, 

Nor  e'er  His  love  forget; 
In  rhythmic  order  flows  and  ebbs  the  tide. 

His  wisdom  rules  both  works  and  days; 
And  all,  the  recreant  heart  of  man  except,  obeys. 

Summer  and  winter  time, 

April  and  autumn's  prime, 
Beneficently  change  and  alternate. 

Trees  bare  with  winter's  rage 

Blossom  with  foliage 

When  spring  comes  up  the  land  with  step  elate; 
And  'neath  her  vaporous  touch  the  streams 
Murmur  and  talk  like  happy  children  in  their 
dreams. 

Rivers  have  flowed  forever 

Seaward,  yet  ocean  never 
Hath  over-flowed  the  goal  of  ordinance; 

The  new  fallen  mask  of  snow 

Performs  its  task  below, 
Warming  the  seed  beneath  its  white  expanse; 

The  winds,  which  messenger  God's  will, 
And  thunder,  uttering  God's  voice,  His  law  fulfill. 

(S3) 


TTbe  OLost  ©racles 


Man  only,  rebel  man, 

Rejects  the  heavenly  plan; 
Corrupting  what  were  perfect  otherwise. 

His  selfish  purpose  sterile 

Hath  put  the  earth  in  peril, 
And  God  repents  He  made  man  in  His^guise: 

His  fan  is  in  His  hand,  the  cup, 
Red  with  His  righteous  indignation,  is  filled  up. 

The  Flood  was  all  in  vain; 

Gomorrah's  fiery  rain; 
Babylon,  Ninevah  no  lesson  hath. 

No  saving  remnant  more, 

No  grape  from  cluster,  nor 
Frantic  prayer  shall  moderate  His  wrath. 

His  truth  and  justice  stand.  •  Behold, 
The  sombre  leaves  of  the  great  Judgment  Book  unfold. 

The  Seven  Angels,  bearing  the  Seven  Vials  of  the  Wrath  of  God, 
appear.  The  vials  are  in  the  form  of  huge,  glowing  urns.  Their 
covers  are  sealed. 

IMPRECATORY  PSALM  OF  THE  MARTYRS 

God  of  the  ages,  known  of  old 

Through  prophet,  priest  and  sage, 
Bring  Thy  redeemed  into  Thy  fold, 

And  claim  Thy  heritage. 
Avenge  Thy  martyred  saints,  O  God, 
Who  for  Thee  thorns  and  ashes  trod. 

Bind  Thou  the  nations  in  Thy  hand 

As  reapers  bind  the  corn; 
Against  their  names  for  ever  stand 

Imperishable  scorn. 
Pronounce  on  them  the  doom  of  Tyre; 
Save  us,  but  melt  the  world  in  fire. 

(54) 


TTbe  %ost  ©racles 


Let  them  be  torn  with  fear,  and  gnaw 
Their  tongues  for  anguished  pain. 

JT  is  time,  who  clave  unto  the  law, 
Should  gift  of  merit  gain. 

The  pagan  heart  hath  built  on  dust: 

Thy  word  and  sacrifice  we  trust. 

Make  them  to  drink  Thy  cup's  red  wrath 

Who  made  us  sup  of  theirs; 
Through  blood  and  torment  be  their  path, 

Who  marked  us  for  our  prayers. 
Red  be  Thy  garments  like  the  dress 
Of  him  who  treadeth  the  wine-press. 

A  prolonged  blast  of  trumpets  by  the  Seven  Trumpeters  before  the 
throne.  Enter  Gabriel,  the  Strong  Angel  of  the  Book  of  Judgment, 
with  the  Great  Book  of  Judgment  in  his  hand. 

GABRIEL 

The  Lord  leaned  out  of  heaven's  window  bright, 
Broidered  with  trellised  stars  and  tendrilled  light 

To  see  if  there  were  any  righteous  man, 
And  none  there  is,  not  one,  that  doeth  right. 

Hear,  all  ye  nations,  and  give  ear,  O  Earth. 
Before  the  bar  of  God  come  prove  your  worth. 

The  years  of  many  generations  end. 
The  great  world,  gravid  with  the  sins  of  birth, 

Groaneth  and  travailleth  upon  her  path 
Among  the  stars,  nor  rest  nor  respite  hath. 

God's  patience  is  o'erborne,  His  finger-ring 
Is  wrapt  around  the  chalice  of  His  wrath. 

Out  of  His  hand  is  no  deliverance; 

He  works  and  who  shall  let  ?    His  glance 

Embraces  space,  time  and  eternity, 
Matter  and  mind,  men's  souls  and  circumstance. 

(55) 


%ost  ©racles 


Red  is  that  wine  of  which  mankind  shall  quaff; 
Red  are  His  garments;  iron  is  His  staff 

Upon  the  nations'  backs;  and  He  that  sits 
Above  the  circle  of  the  heaven  shall  laugh. 

The  doom  of  nations  draweth  nigh,  thus  saith 
The  Lord.     The  stars  already  pant  for  breath; 

Earth's  surface  'gins  to  creep  like  serpent's  skin, 
Alone  the  just  shall  see  this  Day  of  Death 

And  live.     Hot  fires  and  molten  flames  unquenched 
Shall  lap  the  world,  mountains  and  hills  be  wrenched 

From  their  foundations,  and  thrown  in  the  sea; 
Men  shall  be  torn  with  fear,  their  faces  drenched; 

Blood  shall  exude  from  wood;  stones  utter  speech; 
The  sun  withdraw  his  light,  the  moon  beseech 

The  sun  for  heat  to  warm  her  frigid  disc; 
Reason  shall  hide;  wisdom  forget  to  teach; 

Sown  places  shall  appear  unsown,  as  by 
Black  magic  done.     The  birds  from  all  the  sky 

Shall  disappear;  sweet  water  bitter  turn. 
From  all  the  earth  a  lamentable  cry 

Shall  rise.    But  He  that  sitteth  in  the  heaven 
Shall  laugh.     For  seventy  times  seven 

Hath  He  forgiven  man.     Like  fuller's  soap, 
As  a  refiner's  fire  shall  the  leaven 

Of  His  red  wrath  accomplish,  till  destroyed 
Is  the  whole  earth  which  once  He  joyed 

To  make.    Heaven  only  shall  survive  this  day, 
And  Hell,  suspended  in  the  fearful  void. 

Raphael  undertakes  to  intercede  far  condemned  man. 

(56) 


ZTbe  Xost  trades 


RAPHAEL 

Have  mercy  on  whom  Thou  wilt  mercy  have, 

O  Lord.     Compassionate  Thou  erring  man, 

Else  in  deaf  ears  do  heaven  and  earth  Thy  praise 

Extol.     Drive  Thou  away  with  Thy  heart's  hand 

From  face  of  Thy  remembrance  memory 

Of  man's  first  disobedience.     Wilt  thou 

Iniquities  of  fathers  visit  on 

Their  children  and  their  children's  children  through 

Unnumbered  generations,  Lord  ?    Hast  Thou 

Forgot  Thou  didst  the  Flood  repent  ?  and  hid 

Thine  eyes  when  bloated  corpses  floated  o'er 

The  turbid  waters  like  dead  reeds  ?  how  Thou 

Didst  stop  Thy  nostrils  from  the  stench  of  vile 

Corruption,  which  in  exhalation  foul 

Arose  from  earth  ?    Rememberest  Thou,  Lord, 

How  even  as  frightened  dogs  the  angels  crouched 

And  cowered  'neath  Thy  throne,  for  fear  the  Flood 

Would  suck  them  down  like  men  ?    Wilt  Thou  repeat 

What  Thy  foreknowledge  knows  Thou  wilt  repent  ? 

URIEL  (deeply  shocked  at  Raphael,  argues  for  God) 
Who  dare  to  question  God,  or  argue  with 
The  Almighty  ?    Raphael,  these  words  of  thine 
Become  the  fallen  Lucifer,  not  thee. 
Yet  shall  I  answer  thee,  although  not  for 
Thy  reasoning,  but  for  indulgence  of 
Thy  charity.    Just  as  the  husbandman 
Much  seed  doth  sow  upon  the  ground,  and  yet 
Not  all  which  sown  were  shall,  in  season  due, 
Be  reaped,  so  also  they  that  in  the  world 
Are  sown  shall  not  all  garnered  be.     It  must 
Needs  be  that  some  seed  corn,  for  lack  of  rain 

(57) 


TTbe  Xost  ©racles 


Or  tilth,  or  peradventure  choking  thorn, 
Shall  perish. 

RAPHAEL 

Aye.     But  if  the  soul  no  root 
May  take,  whose  is  the  fault  ?    Not  every  soul 
Is  amply  watered  by  the  waters  of 
God's  spirit.    Yet  whose  is  the  soul  hath  not 
The  germ  of  God  within  ?     For  justice  do 
I  plead,  not  for  compassion,  Uriel. 

URIEL 

Each  one  his  righteousness  himself  shall  wear; 
Each  one  his  own  unrighteousness  shall  bear. 
As  the  ground  lies,  so  is  the  sowing; 
As  there  is  credit,  so  is  there  owing; 
As  the  tree  falls,  so  must  it  lie; 
As  is  the  flower,  so  is  the  dye; 
As  is  the  workman,  so  is  his  labor; 
As  there  is  plow,  so  is  there  sabre. 

During  the  course  of  this  argument  the  Voice  of  God  has  not  spoken, 
although  the  wrath  of  the  Deity  at  Raphael's  questioning  of  His 
justice  has  been  manifested  by  a  deeper  flare  of  the  ruby  Light  on 
the  throne,  and  a  lessening  of  the  flame  of  anger  when  Uriel  argued 
for  God. 

JOHN  (rises  from  among  the  Four  and  Twenty  Elders,  and  inter 
cedes  for  sinful  man) 

O  Lord,  thy  servant  suffer,  if  thou  wouldst, 
To  intercede.     Give  unto  men  seed  of 
New  heart  whence  fruit  may  grow  whereby  they  may 
Yet  live  who  bear  thine  image.    All  we  like 
Sheep  do  stray.     Of  one  fashioning  are  we, 
And  Thy  devizing.     When  Thou  quickenest 
The  body  which  Thou  fashionest  within 
The  womb,  both  that  which  keeps  and  which  is  kept 

(58) 


Xost 


Is  of  Thy  keeping.    And  when,  at  nine  moons'  term 
The  womb  gives  up  Thy  creature,  it  is  Thou 
Commandest  breasts  of  milk  to  nourish  it. 
Wilt  Thou,  God,  slay  what  Thou  has  quickened  ?  or 
Thy  creature  kill  ?     If  with  light  word  Thou  shalt 
Destroy  what  Thou  hast  framed,  then  unto  what 
Design  are  men  made  ?    Travelled  have  I  much 
Through  the  nations,  and  seen  much.     When  was  it, 
Lord,  the  inhabitants  of  earth  before  Thee 
Did  no  sin  ?    Few,  few,  Thou  mayest  find  who 
Have  Thy  precepts  kept  in  spirit  and  in 
Truth.     But  nations  none. 

VOICE  OF  GOD 

Thou  thinkst  the  way  of 

The  Most  High  to  comprehend.     Behold,  shall 

I  set  three  similitudes  before  thee; 

If  one  of  these  thou  canst  declare  then  will  I 

Teach  thee  evil's  origin.     Come  now:  weigh 

The  weight  of  fire  for  Me,  or  measure  Me 

The  measure  of  the  wind,  or  else  recall 

Me  yesterday. 

JOHN 

Who  of  earth  can  so  do 
That  Thou  shouldst  ask  me  ? 

VOICE  OF  GOD 

If  I  had  thee  told 

To  plumb  for  Me  the  ocean's  depth,  or  asked: 
Where  is  the  dwelling-place  of  light  ?  or  what 
The  breadth  of  earth  is,  then  thy  ignorance 
Had  not  thee  shamed.    But  I  have  only  asked 
Of  fire,  of  wind,  of  yesterday — things  which 
Thou  canst  not  be  without.    And  yet  thou  hast 

(59) 


%ost  ©racles 


No  answer  pertinent.     Familiar  things 
Art  thou  incapable  to  understand. 
How  shouldst  thou  comprehend  the  ways  of  God  ? 
JOHN 

Yea,  Lord.    Yet  it  had  better  been  that  man 
Had  been  created  never  than  have  come 
Into  the  world  to  live  in  sin  and  pain, 
And  know  not  why  he  suffers. 

VOICE  OF  GOD 

I  shall  be 

Lenient  with  thee,  apostle  John ;  that  thy 
Simplicity  may  understand  shall  I 
A  parable  tell  unto  thee.    Once  on 
A  time  the  woods  and  trees  went  forth  and  took 
Deliberation,  saying:  "Come,  let  us 
Go  forth  and  make  wrar  'gainst  the  sea,  that  it 
May  be  retired,  and  we  may  have  more  land 
For  woods.     But,  Lo,  the  counsel  of  the  trees 
Was  vain.     For  fierce  fire  came  and  utterly 
Destroyed  the  woods.     Then  took  the  ocean's  waves 
Encouragement,  and  said:  "Go  to,  let  us 
Make  war  against  the  land  that  we  may  have 
More  room."    But  then  the  sand  stood  up  in  heaps 
And  choked  the  estuaries  with  great  dunes, 
That  ocean's  stream  was  split,  and  dammed  his  tides. 
If  thou,  apostle  John,  hadst  been  a  judge 
Between  them,  whom  wouldst  thou  have  justified, 
And  whom  condemned  ? 

JOHN 

The  counsel  of  them  twain 

Was  foolishness,  O  Lord.  For  to  the  trees 
The  land  has  been  assigned,  and  to  the  sea 
A  place  to  bear  his  waves. 

(60) 


Ube  %ost  trades 


VOICE  OF  GOD 

Thou  hast  judged  right. 

But  hast  thou  not  given  judgment  'gainst  thyself  ? 
For  as  the  land  has  been  assigned  to  woods, 
And  depths  unto  the  sea,  even  so  hath  man's 
Dominion  and  his  function  been  assigned. 
My  ways  are  not  the  woods'  ways,  nor  the  sea's 
Nor  man's.     For  God's  ways  are  inscrutable. 

INTERCESSORY  PRAYER  OF  THE  SAINTS 

Judgment  and  justice  are  the  dwelling  of  thy  throne; 
Power,  kingdom,  glory,  honor,  sovereignty  alone 
Pertain  to  Thee.    Let  not  Thy  righteousness  forget 
That  truth  and  mercy,  too,  before  Thy  seat  are  met. 
Thou  madest  of  one  blood  all  nations  for  to  dwell; 
All  men  Thy  offspring  are,  O  God.     Wilt  Thou  to  hell 
Damn  all  ?    For  wickedness  of  some  condemn  the  race  ? 
Millions  there  be  who  blindly  grope  to  find  Thy  face. 
Can  man  know  more  of  God  than  God  wills  man  to  see  ? 
As  in  a  glass  men  catch  but  broken  lights  of  Thee. 
Thou  hast  seen  children  play  with  dolls  in  nursery; 
Thou  knowest  that  to  children  dolls  real  people  be: 
Men  be  but  grown-up  children.     Figurines  of  clay 
And  stone  and  wood  they  reverence.    Wilt  thou,  God,  say 
The  savage's  dark  mind  is  one  at  enmity 
With  Thee  because  of  ignorance  ?    Afar  off  he 
Pursues  some  spark  of  fire  by  thine  own  spirit  fanned, 
Some  lamp,  some  " light  that  never  was  on  sea  or  land." 

IMPRECATORY  PROTEST  OF  WORLD-PHILOSOPHERS  AND 
TEACHERS,  ASCENDING  FROM  THE  EARTH  BELOW 
Base  Deity,  how  mocking  is  thy  word. 
Who  claimeth  to  be  just,  who  power  had 
To  make  earth's  children  good  instead  of  bad, 

(61) 


TTbe  %ost  ©racles 


And  yet  omnipotently  hath  preferred 

To  make  them  bad;  who  mightest  have  averred 

Their  happiness,  yet  chose  to  make  them  sad. 
He  were  a  coward  worshiper,  to  make 

Propitiation  unto  Thee,  as  though 
His  were  the  sin,  not  thine.     'T  is  men  who  owe 
Human  forgiveness  Thee.     Thou  shalt  not  shake 

The  rod  of  thy  injustice  thus 
Without  protest  from  us. 

0  monstrous  masquerade  of  Deity! 

For  Thy  sin  chastening  him.    What  mockery! 
Thou  mouthest  justice,  yet  inventedst  sin; 

Pratest  of  mercy,  yet  devizedst  hell. 
Thou  hypocrite,  create  new  heart  within 

Thyself,  ere  Thou  to  others  virtues  tell. 
Heaven  were  hell  with  Thee!    Forfend  that  lot! 
And  hell  a  heaven,  so  Thou  wert  not. 
Thy  wrath  shall  Thy  own  self  consume,  O  Lord. 
Wretch,  coward,  cruel,  insensate  and  abhorred! 

Angry  rejoinder  of  the  Voice  of  God.     The  Light  on  the  throne  blazes 
with  awful  splendor. 

VOICE  OF  GOD 

Be  still  and  know  that  I  am  God.    I  AM 
THE  GREAT  I  AM.    By  will  I  save,  I  damn. 

1  make  alive,  I  kill.     I  sent  the  flood; 
I  made  the  Nilus  river  run  with  blood; 

All  Egypt's  first-born  sons  were  slain  by  ME; 

I  sank  the  host  of  Pharaoh  in  the  sea; 

Horses  and  men;  I  sent  the  fiery  rain 

Which  overcame  the  cities  of  the  plain. 

I  am  a  jealous  God.     None  other  gods 

Shall  be.     The  strong,  the  proud,  I  break  with  rods. 

(62) 


Ube  %ost  trades 


I  think,  I  calculate,  I  make,  I  form. 

The  sea  unto  its  bed  returns.     The  storm 

Is  of  MY  doing.    Blades  of  harvest  corn 

Balance  themselves  in  wind,  yet  are  down  shorn 

By  reaper's  scythe.     Men  march  in  caravans 

For  their  appointed  stage.     MY  vision  scans 

Past  and  futurity.     The  dust  flies  from 

The  rim  of  time's  swift  wheel;  the  cities,  dumb 

With  pain,  collapse  at  word  of  MY  command. 

ME  all  shall  fear,  nor  hope  to  understand. 

My  word  of  desolation  goeth  forth; 

To  right  and  left  it  flies — east,  west,  south,  north. 

Like  dromedary  loosed  'mid  standing  corn 

I  tread  down  whom  I  will.     I  whelm  with  scorn. 

The  earth  is  MINE,  and  men  are  MINE — their  thought, 

Their  implements,  the  things  which  they  have  wrought, 

The  soil  they  till,  the  metals  they  do  mine, 

Their  souls,  their  sons,  their  sons'  sons — all  are  MINE. 

The  Seven  Angels  of  the  Seven  Vials  of  the  Wrath  of  God  raise  the 
lids  of  the  vials.  Dense,  acrid,  lurid  smoke  wreaths  issue  therefrom, 
which  vaguely  take  human  form,  and  begin  to  gyrate  weirdly  and  to  dance. 

INCANTATORY  DANCE  OF  THE  SEVEN  SMOKES 
Worst  is  best,  and  best  is  worst; 
First  is  last,  and  last  is  first; 
With  sinful  man  is  earth  accursed. 
No  more  are  truth  and  mercy  twin; 
God's  justice  o'er  His  ruth  shall  win. 
Now  is  truth  danger 

Unto  ruth; 
Now  is  ruth  stranger 

Unto  truth. 


(63) 


Xost  trades 


His  nostrils'  breath 
Suspires  death. 
God's  laugh 
Like  chaff 
Before  the  wind, 
Shall  blow 
Below 

Souls  of  mankind. 
Hell's  jaws  are  wide; 
See,  see  the  fire; 
Woe,  woe  betide 
Who  feel  His  ire. 

DIRGE  OF  THE  DOOMED  ASCENDING  FROM  EARTH 

Midian's  curtains  tremble,  Kedar's  tents  are  bare; 
Laughter  is  but  madness,  mirth  is  dull  despair. 
Hath  earth  a  refuge  now,  where  all  the  mountains  smoke  ? 
The  seas  steam   'neath   God's  wrath.     Can  we   their 

depths  invoke  ? 

Though  higher  were  we  than  vultures,  or  hid  within  the  core 
Of  Caucasus,  what  matter  when  God  goes  forth  to  war  ? 
Oh,  truly  light  is  sweet,  and  pleasant  is  the  sun: 
Cometh  the  Great  Darkness,  and  death  to  every  one. 
The  day  of  darkness  comes.    Alas,  how  long,  how  long! 
The  silver  cord  is  loosed,  and  broken  is  the  song. 
The  grinders  cease  from  grinding,  sadly  the  mourners  go ; 
All  music's  lovely  daughters  faces  wan  do  show. 
The  cistern's  wheel  is  broken,  the  flagon  by  the  well; 
The  earth's  sweet  life  doth  perish  as  we  go  down  to  hell. 

Sweet,  sweet  to  us  is  breath, 

While  we  go  down  to  death. 

Sweet,  sweet  are  lovers'  kisses; 

Sweet,  sweet  a  mother's  blisses; 

Sweet,  sweet  are  baby  hands; 
(64) 


%o0t  ©racles 


Sweet,  sweet  the  light  that  lies 

In  baby  eyes, 
Big  with  the  large  surprise 
Of  birth  in  what  far  faery  lands. 
Stay,  stay,  the  word  of  Thy  prediction ! 
Stay,  stay,  the  day  of  our  affliction! 
But  let  us  longer  live,  for  that  Thou  mayst; 

Yea,  let  us  live,  O  Lord  of  Life.     Restore 
The  lovely  earth  Thy  wrath  would  haste  to  waste 

To  heritage  of  harmless  life  once  more. 
By  all  the  love  that  ever  woman  bore 
For  man,  by  all  the  love  of  man  for  wife, 

By  all  the  love  of  little  children  for 
The  breasts  which  nourish  them,  O  leave  us  life! 

GABRIEL  (blowing  his  trumpet,  proclaims  the  doom  of  Egypt) 
The  doom  of  Egypt  is  decreed.     Behold, 
Out  of  the  south  the  waters  of  the  Nile 
Shall  come  in  overflowing  flood.     They  shall 
O'erflow  the  land  and  all  that  is  therein, 
The  cities  great  and  all  that  there  do  dwell. 
Thy  men  shall  cry,  thy  women  wail.    All  thy 
Inhabitants  shall  howl.     The  waters  of 
The  Nile  shall  compass  them  about,  even 
Thy  soul,  O  Egypt.    Noisome  weeds  shall  be 
Wrapt  round  thy  head.     The  land  thou  swimmest  in 
Shall  blood  become  even  to  the  hills  which  edge. 
From  pools  which,  since  befell  the  deluge,  have 
Remained,  Behemoth  hideous  shall  rise. 
What  bloody  Nilus  spares,  he  shall  consume. 

A   team  of  monstrous  and    hideous  hippopotami,  harnessed  to  a 
chariot  which  is  driven  by  Typho,  the  Egyptian  god  of  evil,  appears.1 

1  If  I  have  introduced  more  theriomorphic  actors  than  appear  in  the 
Apocalypse,  I  have  not  exaggerated  the  crassness  and  superstition  of  the  popular 
Christian  mind  of  the  first  century. 

(65) 


TTbe  Xost  ©racles 


GABRIEL  (blowing  his  trumpet,  proclaims  the  doom  of  Babylon) 
MENE,  MENE,  TEKEL,  UPHARSIN.     GOD 
Thy  days  hath  numbered.     It  is  done  with  thee, 
Mother  of  Harlots,  Babylon  the  Great. 
In  place  of  dragons  red,  where  since  the  Flood 
Hermaphroditic  beasts  and  monsters  dread 
Have  slumbered,  fierce  Leviathan  awaits 
Thee.     Like  a  lion  roused  up  by  the  swell 
Of  Jordan  he  shall  come.     From  river  bed 
Of  Tigris,  from  Euphrates'  reeds,  he  shall 
Arise.     Thou  shalt  not  draw  him  by  a  hook; 
The  doors  of  his  dread  face  thou  shalt  not  shut. 
His  eyelids  be  like  eyelids  of  the  morn, 
And  very  terrible.     Out  of  his  mouth 
Go  sparks.    His  neesings  shake  the  ground.    With  him 
Comes  Gorgon,  at  whose  name  the  world  shall  grow 
Pale  with  dread.    Ho,  Leviathan,  come  forth! 
A  team  of  huge  crocodiles  appears,  yoked  to  a  chariot  driven  by 
Gorgon.    He  is  formidably  armed  and  armored. 

GABRIEL  (blowing  his  trumpet,  proclaims  the  doom  of  Tyre) 
O  Tyre  of  the  Zidonians,  O  thou 
That  dwellest  upon  many  waters,  end 
To  thee  is  come.    The  sea's  strength  shall  not  save 
Thee,  O  thou  shameless  one.    A  dragon  lies 
In  cavern  couched  for  thee.    When  he  shall  leap 
The  sea  shall  flee,  Orontes  river  hide 
Among  his  flags,  and  cover  up  his  face. 
Rahab,  come  forth ! 

Rahab,  a  formidable  dragon  of  antediluvian  time,  reputed  to  dwell 
in  the  depths  of  the  Dead  Sea,  appears. 

GABRIEL  (blowing  his  trumpet,  proclaims  the  doom  of  Phrygid) 
O  Phrygia,  O  Phrygia,  with  thy 
Abominations  infamous  hast  thou 

(66) 


TTbe  Xost  ©racles 


Defiled  all  Asia.     Hark,  a  dreadful  doom : 
Lay  now  thy  hand  above  thine  eyes,  since  thou 
Shalt  see  a  sight  right  terrible.     For  God 
A  monstrous  serpent  hath  commanded:  He 
Shall  bite  thee  with  his  fangs,  his  venomed  breath 
Shall  melt  thy  bones.     Though  deeper  yet  thou  dig 
Than  Cappadocia's  mining-shafts,  or  hide 
Thyself  within  the  clefts  of  Caucasus, 
His  fangs  shall  find  thee  and  his  coils  shall  crush. 
Aksar,  come  forth! 

A  gigantic  violet-colored  snake,  seventy  cubits  in  length,  appears. 
It  has  a  trilobite  crest  and  two  teeth,  one  in  each  jaw.  It  is  the  great 
serpent  Aksar,  which  Arabic  legend  says  once  frightened  Moses  when 
alone  in  the  wilderness. 

GABRIEL  (blowing  his  trumpet,  proclaims  the  doom  of  Persia) 
Iran!    Iran!     God's  wrath  the  whirlwind  rides. 
The  storm  His  chariot  is.     Beneath  His  feet 
The  clouds  are  dust.    Lo,  now  His  cavalry 
Cometh  against  thee,  horsemen  terrible, 
Horses  than  leopards  swifter,  fiercer  than 
Wolves.     Thy  pleasant  fields  shall  they  destroy. 
The  north  and  south  shall  be  consumed  by  them. 
When  they  shall  touch  Iran  the  land  shall  melt. 
The  hoofbeats  of  their  steeds  shall  beat  thy  soil 
As  on  an  anvil  iron's  hammered  out. 
Hail,  Phobos,  not  for  naught  thy  name  of  Fear. 

A  team  of  white  horses,  prancing  violently  and  neighing  furiously, 
appears,  attached  to  a  chariot  in  which  sits  Phobos,  the  Genius  of 
Fear. 

GABRIEL  (blowing  his  trumpet,  proclaims  the  doom  of  Hellas) 
Howl,  Hellas.    As  a  potter  treadeth  clay 
Shall  God  tread  thee.     He  shall  not  spare.     Even  as 
The  breaking  of  a  potter's  shard  shall  God 

(67) 


ITbe  SLost  ©racles 


Break  thee  in  fragments.     Run  thou  to  and  fro 
Between  thy  hedges  green  and  ripening  vines; 
Press  thou  thy  hands  upon  thy  loins,  for  thou 
Shalt  travail  like  a  woman  great  with  child, 
And  none  be  to  deliver Malek,  come. 

A  team  oj  jet  black  horses  appears  yoked  to  a  chariot  in  which  sits  a 
dark  and  forbidding  figure,  attired  like  a  Chaldaean  charioteer. 
Malek  means  commander. 

GABRIEL  (blowing  his  trumpet,  proclaims  the  doom  of  Rome) 
Wail  for  the  multitude  of  Rome  whose  graves 
Now  yawn  beneath  their  feet.    Rome's  site  shall  sink 
Into  the  nether  part  of  earth.    Behold, 
The  Lord  shall  rend  the  ground.    By  earthquake  great 
Shall  God  plead  with  thee,  O  infernal  Rome. 
Where  tarryest  thou,  Mors  ?    Why  is  thy  car 
So  long  in  coming  ?    Wherefore  are  thy  wheels 
So  slow  ?....!  hear  the  stamping  of  the  hoofs 
Of  thy  strong  steeds  impatient  of  the  bit. 
A  team  of  blood  red  horses  appears,  yoked  to  a  chariot  in  which  stands 
the  grisly  figure  of  Death,  erect  and  terrible. 

The  Seven  Angels  of  the  Wrath  of  God,  with  flaming  swords,  parade 
before  the  throne. 

THE  SEVEN  ANGELS  OF  THE  WRATH  OF  GOD 
The  wine  of  His  communion  cup 

To  scarlet  ichor  turns; 
The  bread  of  life  men  used  to  sup 

Like  bitter  wildroot  burns. 
Cry  haro !  Let  loose  down  the  wind 
The  hounds  of  heaven  upon  mankind ! 

VOICE  OF  GOD 

Fire,  Water,  Stormy  Vapors,  Hail,  Snow,  Wind, 
Go  forth.    Devour  the  whole  earth,  and  behind 

(68) 


Xost  ©racles 


Let  pestilence  and  famine  stalk,  until 

The  world  be  all  consumed.     Such  is  MY  will. 

Blow  Lebanon  and  Carmel  clean  of  trees; 

The  rivers  fill,  throw  mountains  into  seas; 

Blot  out  the  stars  and  sun,  to  ashes  turn 

The  moon;  with  quenchless  fires  let  ocean  burn. 

Across  the  universe  shall  MY  red  wrath 

A  road  of  desolation  cut,  like  path 

Of  reaper  when  the  corn  is  ripe  for  blade. 

Go  forth,  and  utterly  destroy  the  earth  I  made. 

Forthwith  the  whole  celestial  company  disappears.  The  Light  of  God  goes 
out  upon  the  throne.  The  roof  of  the  temple  of  heaven  is  rolled  together 
like  a  scroll  by  a  terrible  wind  which  arises.  An  earthquake  follows. 
The  floor  of  heaven  cracks  and  is  heaved  up,  and  water  gushes  out.  A  rain 
of  blood  pours  down,  intermingled  with  hailstones.  The  thunder  and  light 
ning  become  terrific,  the  roar  of  the  earthquake  and  the  voice  of  the  tempest 
appalling.  Finally  thick  darkness  falls,  and  a  silence  ensues  that  seems  to 
be  palpitating  and  alive,  and  to  be  pacing  back  and  forth  in  the  dreadful 
gloom  like  some  unseen  beast  of  prey  in  a  jungle. 


(69) 


ACT  V.    THE  LOST  ORACLES 


Dark  the  shrine  and  dumb  the  fount  of  song  thence  welling, 
Save  for  words  more  sad  than  tears  of  blood,  that  said: 

"TeD  the  king  on  earth  has  fallen  the  glorious  dwelling, 
And  the  water  springs  that  spake  are  quenched  and  dead. 

Not  a  cell  is  left  the  God,  no  roof,  no  cover; 
In  his  hand  the  prophet  laurel  flowers  no  more." 

They  are  conquered,  they  break,  they  are  stricken, 

Whose  magic  made  the  whole  world  pale; 
They  are  dust  that  shall  rise  not  nor  quicken, 

Though  the  world  for  their  death's  sake  wail. 

— SWINBURNE,  The  Last  Oracle. 


ACT  V.    THE  LOST  ORACLES 
SCENE  I.     EGYPT 

Interior  of  the  Temple  of  Isis  at  Memphis.  The  appearance  is  that 
of  vast  rectitudinal  lines,  both  vertical  and  horizontal,  the  geometrical 
form  of  the  structure  heightening  the  impression  of  indestructibility 
and  eternal  duration.  A  forest  of  pillars  of  cedar,  sycamore,  and 
cypress  wood  supports  the  roof.  By  a  clever  architectural  device  the 
illusion  is  that  of  the  roof  floating  like  the  sky  above  the  heads  of  the 
worshipers,  an  effect  accentuated  by  the  sky-blue  vaulting,  in  which 
bright  gold  patens  glow  like  stars.  This  imitation  of  the  large  impress 
ion  of  nature  is  continued  along  the  side  walls,  the  pilasters  seeming  to 
be  palm  tree  trunks,  their  tops  terminating  in  the  graceful,  feathery 
crests  of  that  tree,  while  the  wall  spaces  are  ornamented  with  flying 
birds.  So,  too,  the  pillars  are  chased  with  papyrus  stems,  as  if  the 
trees  were  growing  up  out  of  a  clump  of  them.  A  gigantic  frieze  runs 
around  the  four  sides  of  the  interior,  in  which  one  vaguely  distinguishes 
allegorical  and  mythological  scenes,  the  meaning  of  which  is  inter 
preted  by  huge  panels  of  hieroglyphic  inscriptions  inlaid  with  colors, 
after  the  manner  of  ancient  Egyptian  writing,  which  divide  the  whole 
painting  into  separate  pictures. 

The  fore  part  of  the  nave  is  bright  with  sunlight;  in  the  middle  part 
the  sunshine  is  strained  through  stained  glass  windows  in  a  kind  of 
clerestory,  giving  that  air  of  mystery  which  was  so  striking  an  attribute 
of  Egyptian  worship.  Two  immensely  long  violet-colored  curtains 
which  fall  from  a  cross-beam  of  the  ceiling,  and  are  but  half  drawn 
back  impart  the  impression  of  a  reredos  dividing  the  nave  from  the 
holy  of  holies.  The  effect  of  distance  created  by  this  ground-plan  is 
enhanced  by  the  gradual  diminution  of  light,  and  the  gradual  elevation 
of  the  nave  and  aisles,  so  that  the  perspective  is  more  than  normal. 
The  air  is  redolent  with  odors  of  frankincense  and  galbanum,  and 
music  of  a  strange,  sombre  beauty,  half  voluptuous,  half  sorrowful, 
faintly  pulsates  in  the  heavy  air.  It  comes  from  behind  the  violet  cur 
tains,  and  is  that  of  lutes. 

The  action  begins  in  the  fore-court  of  the  temple,  in  front  of  the 
imposing  faQade,  and  in  a  blaze  of  sunlight.  In  the  dry  climate 
the  air  is  of  almost  incandescent  purity,  and  in  the  translucent 

(73) 


TTbe  %ost  ©racles 


atmosphere  the  entablature  of  the  temple,  the  Pylons  and  the  points 
of  the  obelisks  which  adorn  the  approach  stand  out  with  startling 
clarity.  First  come  in  procession  twenty -four  priestesses  of  I  sis, 
their  heads  and  faces  muffled  in  glittering  white,  transparent  veils, 
and  robed  in  white;  then  twenty-four  priests  of  Isis,  dressed  in 
white  linen;  over  their  shoulders  are  hung  leopard  skin  capes; 
their  heads  are  tonsured  and  gleam  with  nard;  they  walk  with 
a  languid,  sinuous  motion  as  if  unconsciously  simulating  the  lithe 
gait  of  a  leopard.  Both  priests  and  priestesses  carry  acacia  wands, 
and  gold  or  silver  sistra,  with  which  they  keep  up  an  incessant, 
low  tinkling.  Last  of  all  comes  the  high  priest  of  Isis,  his  vesture  of 
white  cendal  bordered  with  a  deep  purple  fringe,  and  on  his  head  a  mitre 
in  the  front  of  which  is  fixed  the  cross  of  Isis.  On  his  breast  is  a  kind 
of  ephod,  richly  jeweled,  in  the  shape  of  a  crescent,  the  sacred  symbol  of 
the  goddess.  His  hands  are  gloved  in  white  kid-skin  gloves.  His 
shoes  (as  well  as  those  of  all  the  others}  are  made  of  bright  Tyrian 
leather,  and  have  gilded  soles. 

CHANT  TO  THE  NILE  (the  choir  of  priests  and  priestesses 
marching  down  the  nave  of  the  temple,  singing) 
Olden  stream!     Golden  stream! 
River  of  our  thought  and  dream. 
Where  lieth  that  mysterious  spring, 
Mother  of  thy  issuing  ? 
Where  are  those  boon  fountains, 
Hid  in  what  Moon  Mountains  ? 
Men  say  thy  annual  rise  is 
Due  to  the  tears  of  Isis 
Mourning  for  lost  Osiris 
'Mid  reeds  and  flags  of  iris. 
Hail!    Hail!    Mysterious  River, 
Bountiful  Life  Giver. 
From  the  grey  Moon  Mountains  far, 
Where  the  jewels  of  Ophir  are, 
Thou  dost  come  with  magic  stealth, 
Dowering  the  earth  with  wealth. 
(74) 


Ube  %ost  trades 


Without  thee  Egypt's  land 

Were  of  swart  and  barren  sand. 

River  of  God,  thou  makest  the  barley  grow; 

Corn  for  bread  dost  thou  on  man  bestow; 

Thou  waterest  the  ridges  of  the  field; 

The  furrows  settlest  that  they  may  yield. 

Of  thy  gift,  too,  is  seed  in  man; 

The  child  within  the  womb  thy  plan. 

The  river-horse  and  crocodile 

Worship  thee,  fair  river  Nile; 

Thee  papyrus  and  date  palm 

Greet  with  decorous  salaam. 

Thee  Morning  waits  with  trembling  lids; 

The  stony-hearted  Pyramids 

\Vatch  where  thy  deep  current  thrids. 

Even,  't  is  said,  the  hoary  Sphinx 

Each  midnight  of  thy  water  drinks. 

O  guardian  Nile,  vouchsafe  for  aye 

Thy  smile  on  Egypt,  else  we  die. 

The  choir  of  priests  and  priestesses,  at  the  threshold  of  the  holy  of 
holies  separates  into  two  bodies,  letting  the  high  priest  of  Isis  alone 
pass  through  the  midst  of  them.  The  music  of  the  lutes  throbs  more 
sorrowfully  than  ever.  The  light  in  this  chamber  of  the  God  is  very 
dim.  Within  the  chamber  is  a  massive  porphyry  sarcophagus,  on 
the  lid  of  which,  as  on  a  bier,  is  sculptured  the  recumbent  figure  of 
Osiris.  The  body  is  draped,  but  the  face  is  bare.  It  is  a  countenance 
of  great  dignity  and  majesty.  On  Osiris'  head  is  the  white  croum  of 
Upper  Egypt.  In  his  hands  which  issue  from  beneath  the  pall  are 
a  sceptre  and  a  scourge,  the  characteristic  emblems  of  the  God.  At  the 
corners  of  the  sarcophagus  stand  four  sculptured  lions.  Four  hawks, 
representing  the  four  children  of  Horus,  each  with  the  banner  of 
Horus  in  its  beak,  hang  suspended  over  the  tomb.  A  fifth  hawk  is 
Perched  upon  the  breast  of  Osiris,  and  is  gently  fanning  his  face  with 
her  wings  as  if  to  restore  him  to  life.  It  represents  Isis. 

(75) 


TIbe  Xost  ©racles 


THE  HIGH  PRIEST  (breaking  the  clay  seal  of  the  grille  which 
separates  the  holy  of  holies  from  the  nave) 
Clean  of  heart  and  clean  of  hand, 
Goddess,  I  before  thee  stand. 
Broken  is  the  clay,  loosened  is  the  seal: 

0  Holy  One,  O  Holy  One,  Thy  love  reveal. 

VOICE  OF  THE  ORACLE 

1  am  whatever  was,  or  is,  or  shall 

Be,  and  my  veil  no  mortal  ever  raised. 

HIGH  PRIEST 

Sweet  goddess,  comforter  of  man's  distress, 
Pour  forth  on  us  thy  draught  of  deathlessness. 

THE  CHOIR  OF  PRIESTS  AND  PRIESTESSES 
Children  are  we  in  darkness  pent; 
Like  desert  bedouin  in  tent, 
To-day  we  dwell.     To-morrow,  Oh, 
Who  knows  which  way  the  wind  will  blow  ? 
Whether  for  us  the  dawn  will  glow, 

To-morrow  ? 

Goddess,  let  us  from  Thy  store  borrow 
Strength  for  weakness,  joy  for  sorrow. 
Death  stands  before  us  with  his  smell  of  myrrh; 
Life  swiftly  flows  away  like  bright  water. 

INTONATION  OF  CHOIR 

Mooned  mountains, 
Sunny  plains, 
Deserts  wan, 
Watery  mains, 
Rivers  running  into  seas, 
Lichens  growing  into  trees, 
Animal  and  plant  their  span 
Of  the  universal  plan 
(76) 


TTbe  %ost  ©racles 


Fulfill  since  when  time  began. 
The  child  is  father  of  the  man, 
And  God  is  father  of  us  all: 
O  Father,  hear  Thy  children  call. 

The  cold  figure  of  Osiris  seems  to  grow  warm  in  the  dim  obscurity. 
A  faint  tinge  suffuses  his  cheeks.  His  hands  move  slightly.  The 
hawk  (I sis}  upon  his  breast  beats  her  wings  furiously  and  screams  as  if 
in  ecstasy.  The  fumes  of  incense  rise  and  curl  in  thick  clouds.  The 
choir  chants,  at  first  softly,  and  then  with  the  rapture  of  song,  to  the 
quicker  music  of  the  lutes. 

CHORAL  CHANT 

List,  O  list,  beneath  my  feet 

I  feel  the  pulse  of  earth; 
The  throb  of  the  eternal  heart 

That  giveth  all  things  birth. 

Hist,  O  hist,  within  my  ear — 

Far-called,  a  voice — a  voice. 
Creation's  song  of  songs  I  hear, 

O  soul  of  mine,  rejoice. 

Kissed,  O  kissed,  upon  my  lips 

The  wine  of  God  I  taste: 
Drink,  drink,  my  soul,  to  death's  eclipse. 

O  soul  of  mine,  make  haste. 

Life,  O  life,  and  ever  more 

More  life  be  all  my  quest. 
There  is  no  Past,  there  is  no  Fore, 

Nor  north,  nor  east,  nor  west. 

THE  HIGH  PRIEST  (standing  on  the  threshold  of  the  chapel  of  the 
holy  of  holies,  and  raising  his  hands  as  if  in  a  benediction) 
God  sitteth  on  the  flood.     Rejoice. 
Nile  riseth.    Make  a  joyful  noise. 

(77) 


TTbe  OLost  ©racles 


The  choir  forms  in  procession,  and  to  the  now  joyful  sound  of  sistra, 
tabers,  flutes,  and  drums  played  by  a  band  of  choir  boys  which  joins 
them,  begins  to  dance  rather  than  to  march  down  the  nave  of  the  temple. 
Suddenly  the  sunlight,  which  hitherto  has  shone  brightly,  pales,  and 
a  yellowish-green  light  suffuses  the  great  interior.  A  low,  angry 
roaring  is  heard.  The  company  of  priests,  priestesses,  and  choir 
boys  shows  visible  agitation,  but  keeps  its  formation. 

HIGH  PRIEST 

Lo,  the  voice  of  many  waters.    Nile,  Nile, 
Egypt's  sweet  land  shall  blossom  'neath  thy  smile. 

A  long,  tongue-like  stream  of  water  comes  running  swiftly  and  sinu 
ously  down  the  floor  of  the  nave,  the  crest  of  the  wavelet  erect  like  a  ser 
pents  head.  Wave  follows  wave  with  a  sinister  sound,  half  hiss  and 
half  roar,  until  the  worshipers  are  splashing  to  their  knees  in  the  flood. 

A  PRIEST 

The  Nile  hath  overflowed  his  banks; 
The  Nile  hath  burst  his  earthen  tanks. 

A  PRIESTESS  (shrieking) 

Egypt,  the  Nile  shall  drag  thee  down; 
Egypt,  the  Nile  shall  thy  sons  drown. 

HIGH  PRIEST 

Deep  calleth  unto  deep. 

Hear  ye  his  water-spout  ? 
Death  calleth  unto  death, 

I  hear  his  mad  waves  shout. 

A  PRIEST 

Flood!    Flood!    Flood! 

A  PRIESTESS 

Blood!    Blood!    Blood! 
A  PRIEST 

The  flood  shall  suck  us  down. 

A  PRIESTESS 

In  blood  shall  we  all  drown. 

(78) 


Ube  %ost  ©racles 


By  this  time  the  water  has  risen  to  the  waists  of  the  company,  and 
gleams  with  the  purple-red  tint  of  fresh  bullock's  blood.  The  whole 
group  manifests  the  wildest  consternation.  In  the  midst  of  the  uni 
versal  terror  a  gigantic  hippopotamus  appears  swimming  down  the 
flooded  nave,  bearing  the  body  of  a  young  girl  in  his  formidable  jaws. 

A  PRIEST  (wildly  shrieking) 
Worse,  worse,  worse. 
Curse,  curse,  curse. 
The  river-horse  with  dripping  jaw. 
The  river-horse  with  giant  maw. 

THE  HIPPOPOTAMUS  (snorting  furiously) 
Blood,  blood,  who  would  think  ? 
Blood,  blood,  for  me  to  drink! 
Meat,  meat,  human  meat, 
Human  meat  for  me  to  eat! 
Sup,  sup,  Behemoth,  sup! 
Up,  up,  eat  Egypt  up! 

The  yellowish-green  sunlight  goes  out  in  a  flash  of  darkness.  The 
walls  of  the  temple  fall  in  with  a  thunderous  roar,  the  columns  and 
pillars  crumble  and  topple  over  into  the  water.  The  bubbling  cries 
of  human  beings  in  the  agony  of  drowning  are  heard,  commingled 
with  the  furious  snorting  of  the  hippopotamus.  Finally  thick  darkness 
and  silence  settle  down. 


(79) 


SCENE  2.    BABYLON 

The  platform  of  the  great  Ziggurab,  or  Temple  of  Bel  and  Istar  in 
Babylon.  The  structure  is  a  huge  tower  made  of  earth  and  faced  with 
sun-baked  brick  mortared  with  bitumen,  composed  of  seven  massive 
quadrangular  blocks,  each  one  smaller  than  the  one  below  it,  so  that 
the  effect  is  that  of  a  series  of  gigantic  terraces  tapering  upward  to  a 
fiat  top,  or  platform.  A  half  cosmological,  half  religious  symbolism 
is  represented  by  the  structure,  the  seven  stories  symbolizing  the  seven 
planetary  deities  whom  the  Babylonians  believed  to  be  mediators 
between  heaven  and  earth.  An  inclined  roadway,  or  ramp,  wide 
enough  for  four  chariots  to  be  driven  abreast,  zigzags  upward  around 
the  tower.  In  the  Babylonian  religion  the  long  and  arduous  ascent  of 
this  roadway  was  a  meritorious  approach  to  the  gods,  the  pious  per 
formance  of  which  conferred  grace  or  indulgence  upon  the  actor,  much 
as  the  "stations"  in  the  church  of  Rome  are  reverently  traversed,  one 
by  one,  by  worshipers.  The  exterior  walls  of  the  temple  are  faced 
with  richly  colored  glazed  tiles  and  embellished  with  enormous  human- 
headed  and  winged  bulls  carved  in  alabaster.  The  outer  edge  of  the 
roadway  and  platform  are  guarded  by  a  brick  parapet.  Black  basalt 
"metae"  or  posts,  covered  with  hieratic  inscriptions  in  cuneiform 
writing,  mark  the  turnings  in  the  roadway. 

The  great,  richly  adorned  altar  smokes  with  sacrifice.  The  air  is 
redolent  with  the  smell  of  burning  flesh  commingled  with  the  odors 
of  incense  and  the  aroma  of  spices.  As  both  Night  and  Morning  were 
worshiped  by  the  Babylonians  under  a  variety  of  names,  the  god  Bel 
being  a  Sun-God,  and  Istar,  the  Moon-Goddess,  being  primarily  an 
evening  deity,  the  hour  is  midnight,  halfway  between  the  Night  and  the 
Morning.  Flakes  of  fire  blown  by  the  high  wind  traverse  the  darkness 
like  flying  stars.  Two  theories  of  priests,  fourteen  (twice  seven)  in 
each  theory,  are  officiating  before  the  high  altar.  One  company  of  them 
is  attired  in  white  linen  robes  broidered  with  gold  Babylonian  figura 
tion;  the  other  is  similarly  clad,  but  the  brede  of  their  robes  is  blue 
instead  of  gold.  All  wear  high,  peaked  caps  or  hats,  those  of  the  first 
company  of  priests  having  a  blazing  sun  affixed  in  the  front;  those 
of  the  second  company  wearing  a  crescent  moon  and  stars.  The  High 
Priest  is  attired  in  white  and  gold  raiment,  but  wears  a  sort  of  tiara  to 

(80) 


Ube  %ost  trades 


distinguish  him.  All  the  priests  except  the  High  Priest  carry  golden 
censers  which  they  ceaselessly  swing.  The  whole  platform  roundabout 
the  altar  is  crowded  with  richly  clad  nobles  and  gentle  ladies  of  the 
court,  and  civil  and  military  officials  in  great  profusion.  The  road 
way  below,  on  every  level,  is  packed  with  the  populace  of  Babylon.  In 
the  moonless  night  the  vast  city  lies  dimly  outspread,  the  silver  ribbon 
of  the  river  being  especially  conspicuous.  In  the  far  distance  the 
great  walls  of  Babylon,  with  their  huge  bastion  towers  darkly  sil 
houetted  against  the  sky  are  discernible,  the  whole  effect  giving  the 
weird  impression  of  a  gigantic  antediluvian  dragon  sleeping  coiled 
around  the  city. 

FIRST  THEORY 

0  Bel,  King  of  Blessedness,  Monarch  of  high  renown, 

Thy  sceptre  is  in  Babylon,  Borsippa  is  thy  crown. 
SECOND  THEORY 

O  Bel,  who  dwellest  in  the  Temple  of  the  Sun, 

Shower  down  and  pour  thy  mercy  great  on  Babylon. 
HIGH  PRIEST 

The  circuit  of  heaven  and  earth  is  thine; 

The  song  which  gladdens  the  heart  is  thine; 

The  breath  that  giveth  life  is  thine. 
FIRST  THEORY 

O  Thou  who  destiny  decreest  for  distant  days, 
In  heaven  are  thy  ways. 

SECOND  THEORY 

O  Beautiful,  whose  knees  do  ne'er  grow  weary, 
Hear  me. 

ALL  THE  PRIESTS 

Thy  strong  command  in  heaven  is  proclaimed; 
Thy  strong  command  o'er  earth  is  flamed. 
At  thy  command  the  storm  and  darkness  passes ; 
When  thy  command  goes  forth,  the  earth  blooms  green 
with  grasses. 

(81) 


Ube  %ost  ©racles 


HIGH  PRIEST  (intoning) 

The  fear  of  God  endeth  strife; 

Contrition  wipeth  away  sin. 
Sacrifice  prolongeth  life; 

Prayer  doth  renew  the  heart  within. 

ALL  THE  PRIESTS  (turning  to  face  the  people) 
Narrow  are  the  mansions  of  our  souls, 
Enlarge  thou  them. 

HIGH  PRIEST 

Thy  pilgrim  people  sigh  for  Thee,  O  Bel. 

ALL  THE  PRIESTS 

Dust  and  ashes  are  we  before  Thee. 

FIRST  THEORY 

How  deep  are  all  Thy  ways,  inscrutable. 

SECOND  THEORY 

Thou  only  great  that  silent  art  on  high, 
Whose  fairness  maketh  all  things  fair. 

HIGH  PRIEST 

Come  unto  us,  O  thou  of  the  four  winds, 
Who  breathest  spirit  into  hearts  of  men; 
Whose  muses  hymn  thy  glorious  name; 
Whom  the  eight  wardens  guard. 

ALL  THE  PRIESTS  ((chanting) 

Thy  years  fail  not, 

Thy  years  are  one  to-day. 

How  many  of  ours  and  our  fathers'  years 

Have  flowed  away  through  thy  To-Day, 

And  others  still  shall  flow  away. 

But  thou  art  yet  the  same,  O  Bel. 

All  things  of  Yesterday, 

All  things  To-day, 

Thou  hast  done, 

Eternal  One. 

(82) 


TTbe  Xost  ©racles 


PRAYER  (intoned  by  choir  of  priests) 
The  quiet  rest  of  night, 

The  day  which  lifts, 
The  darkness  and  the  light, 

These  are  thy  gifts. 
O  that  we,  too,  like  morn, 

Might  be  reborn. 
Shadows  from  our  poor  past 
On  eternity's  radiance  cast 
Stains  we  would  outblot. 
O  Bel,  remember  not 
Our  thoughtless  life, 
Our  envious  strife; 
Chasten  and  deepen  our  heart, 
Help  us  to  choose  the  better  part; 
Make  sense  of  thy  great  nearness  fill 
Our  minds,  our  hearts,  our  will. 
Keep  thou,  O  keep,  our  eyes  from  tears, 
Our  feet  from  falling,  and  our  souls  from  fears. 

HYMN  TO  BEL 

Thee,  Thee  we  seek,  who  makest 

Orion,  Pleiads'  skein; 
Thee,  thee  we  seek,  who  shakest 

The  bottles  of  the  rain. 
Thee,  thee  we  seek,  who  fillest 

All  the  air  with  light; 
Thee,  thee  we  seek,  who  millest 

The  floury  snowflakes  white. 
Thee,  thee  we  seek  who  foldest 

The  waters  in  thy  hand; 
Thee,  thee  we  seek,  who  boldest 

The  rain  for  the  dry  land; 

(83) 


trades 


Thee,  thee  we  seek,  who  warmest 

The  blessed  earth  below; 
Thee,  thee  we  seek,  who  formest 

The  seed  so  that  it  grow. 
Thee,  thee  we  seek,  who  knittest 

The  child  within  the  womb; 
Thee,  thee  we  seek,  who  sittest 

By  them  within  the  tomb. 

HIGH  PRIEST 

The  feet  of  the  goddess  Istar  we  kiss  and  wash  with  tears. 

FIRST  THEORY 

Convert  thy  wrath  to  mercy.  Remember  not  past  years. 
HIGH  PRIEST 

May  the  wrongs  which  we  have  done  be  as  a  tale  that's 
told; 

Cast  our  transgressions  from  us  as  a  garment  that  is  old. 

SECOND  THEORY 

Let  the  flowing  waters  wash  us,  that  we  be  clean  to  behold ; 
Make  us  pure  of  heart  within  like  sheen  of  sparkling  gold. 
HYMN  TO  ISTAR 

Istar,  Goddess  of  morning, 
Light  of  the  eastern  sky, 
Istar,  horizon-adorning, 

List  to  thy  children's  cry. 
We  entreat  thee,  be  not  thou  scorning, 
Else  we  die. 

Would  that,  even  as  art  thou, 

We  were  effulgent  and  bright; 
Give,  O  give  us  the  heart  now 

To  live  and  to  die  for  the  right. 
Day  Star,  vouchsafe  us  a  part  now 

Of  thy  light. 

(84) 


Ube  Xost  ©racles 


Istar,  Goddess  of  even, 

Thy  foot  on  the  western  steep, 
From  the  gold  threshold  of  heaven 

Shower  down  thy  blessing  of  sleep; 
Bid  the  Moon  and  the  Stars  that  are  Seven 

Our  ward  keep. 

Istar,  Goddess  immortal, 

Remember  the  children  of  clay; 
All  we  must  pass  through  the  portal 

Of  Death,  and  know  not  the  way: 
For  we  are  of  seeds  that  are  mortal, 

Thou  art  for  aye. 

Of  a  sudden  the  stars  are  blotted  out,  and  a  low,  sullen  moaning  of  the 
wind  is  heard  which  rapidly  rises  to  a  shriek  and  a  roar.  The  torches 
gutter  and  go  out.  The  odors  of  the  holocaust  are  scattered  to  the  four 
winds.  The  air  is  filled  with  a  thick,  dense  cloud  of  fine  dust.  It  is  the 
Simoom.  Consternation  seizes  upon  the  worshipers,  who  fight  for 
breath  in  the  strangling  darkness.  Many  of  them  run  to  and  fro  in 
great  dread.  Others  fall  to  the  ground  prostrated. 

VOICE  OF  THE  SIMOOM 

Punishment  cometh  from  the  desert, 

And  destruction  from  the  waste  places. 
Thy  men  shall  gnaw  their  tongues  with  pain,  0  Babylon, 

And  black  shall  be  all  faces. 

A  PRIEST 

Babylon  is  fallen,  fallen,  fallen, 

And  all  the  images  of  her  high  gods. 
Thou  who  wert  over  the  nations 

Art  now  bescourged  with  rods. 

Meanwhile  the  ten  or  stricken  multitude  upon  the  roadway  has  broken 
away  in  a  wild  panic,  and  has  begun  to  retreat  down  the  inclined 
slopes.  But  a  terrible  cry  arises  from  the  vanguard,  which  arrests 
the  crowd's  advance.  In  the  melee  men,  women,  and  children  are 

(85) 


TTbe  Xost  ©racies 


thrust  over  the  parapet  and  fall  shrieking  from  the  dizzy  heights.  A 
troop  of  huge  crocodiles  led  by  a  monster  saurian  appears,  ramping 
up  the  roadway,  bellowing  like  bulls  and  snapping  their  frightful 
jaws  as  they  advance. 

THE  CROWD 

Leviathan,  Leviathan,  comes  up  from  Tigris'  slime. 
Leviathan,  Leviathan,  besmeared  is  he  with  rime. 
Flood-begotten, 
Mud-begotten 
Monster  he  of  prehistoric  time. 

His  dreadful  jaws 
Be  armed  with  saws; 
His  mighty  tail 
Is  like  a  flail; 
His  carrion  breath 
Foredoometh  death. 

CHORUS  OF  THE  CROCODILES 

From  caverns  blind  to  stars  and  suns, 
Where  Raksh,  the  evil  river  runs; 
From  caverns  subterranean, 
From  caverns  measureless  to  man, 
We  come,  we  come,  Leviathan. 
Before  our  eyeballs'  shine 
Men's  blood  runs  cold  like  gelid  wine. 
Fire  our  spittle  is; 
Men's  flesh  between  our  jaws, 
Like  faggots,  brittle  is. 
With  horny  paws, 
With  hungry  maws, 
With  bellies  cavernous, 
With  famine  ravenous, 
(86) 


Ube  Xost  trades 


We  seek  whom  we  devour. 
Now  is  the  awful  hour. 
'Ware,  'ware  our  reptile  line; 
'Ware,  'ware  the  saurian  sign; 
Not  Gorgon's  glance  more  terrible  than 
our  fierce  eyen. 

The  wind  rises  to  a  furious  hurricane.  The  air  is  filled  with  dust 
and  flying  debris.  The  temple  tower  collapses  with  a  dull  roar.  The 
darkness  becomes  appalling.  In  the  universal  confusion  are  heard 
the  cries,  shrieks,  moans,  weeping,  wailing  of  men,  women,  and  chil 
dren,  commingled  with  which  are  the  fearful  bellowings  and  gnashing 
of  teeth  of  the  crocodiles.  Gradually  silence  ensues.  Ruin  invests  the 
scene.  Babylon  is  reduced  to  a  heap — a  confused  array  of  mounds 
around  whose  bases  the  sullen  waters  of  the  Tigris  river  lap  and  lick. 


(87) 


SCENE  3.    TYRE 

The  gorge  of  Aphaka,  at  the  source  of  the  river  Adonis,  halfway 
between  Byblus  and  Baalbec.  The  river  emerges  as  a  rushing  torrent 
from  a  grotto  or  cavern  at  the  foot  of  a  mighty  cliff,  which  itself  is  part 
of  a  huge  amphitheatre  of  towering  cliffs,  and  plunges  in  a  series  of 
three  cascades  down  the  vale.  The  higher  walls  of  rock  are  denuded 
of  vegetation  and  fissured  and  cracked  with  alternate  heat  and  frost. 
But  the  lower  strata  are  covered  with  lianas  and  vines,  clinging  to  the 
crannies  and  interstices  in  the  face  of  the  rock.  Here  and  there  fan 
tastic  natural  buttresses  protrude.  So  lofty  are  the  walls  that  goats 
browsing  along  the  edge  of  the  precipices  appear  like  ants.  Against 
the  patch  of  Tyrian  blue  sky  overhead  an  eagle  may  be  seen  wheeling. 
The  temple,  sacred  to  the  worship  of  Attis  and  Tammuz,  is  built  of 
massive  hewn  foundation  blocks  of  syenite  granite,  but  the  Ionic 
columns  are  of  marble.  It  is  little  more  than  a  roof  resting  upon 
pillars,  and  without  side  walls,  covering  the  "place,"  the  way  to  which 
is  indicated  by  sacred  striped  posts  called  asherim,  themselves  also 
phallic  emblems.  Many  ancient  religious  beliefs  and  practices  had 
their  inception  in  the  processes  of  vernal  nature,  and  were  various 
manifestations  of  nature  translated  into  the  form  of  magical  drama. 
Even  when  not  converted  into  a  religious  symbolism  these  phenomena 
were  often  yet  invested  with  personality,  thus  giving  rise  to  myths  of 
many  kinds,  but  especially  solar  myths.  In  Genesis  49 : 11-13,  th& 
story  of  Judah  and  Tamar,  we  have  a  solar  myth,  or  a  mythical  picture 
of  the  sun  pairing  with  the  vegetation  of  the  earth  in  springtime.  So, 
too,  there  are  solar  mythical  elements  crystallized  around  the  tale  of 
Samson  and  Delilah.  No  one  of  these  ancient  nature  "mysteries" 
is  more  intense,  or  more  beautiful,  when  rightly  read,  than  the  worship 
of  Attis  and  Tammuz.  Although  somewhat  gross  and  sensual  among 
the  Zidonians  and  Phoenicians,  the  Greeks  etherealized  this  nature 
worship  in  the  legend  of  Aphrodite  and  Adonis.  Indeed,  the  vale  of 
Aphaka  is  the  original  site  of  the  myth,  where  the  red  tint  of  the  stream 
in  the  spring,  owing  to  the  red  soil  roundabout,  and  the  myriads  of 
red-colored  flowers,  especially  the  anemone  and  the  hyacinth,  gave  birth 
to  the  legend  of  the  mortal  wound  suffered  by  Adonis,  who  is  the  Greek 
Tammuz,  the  Semitic  word  of  honorable  address,  "adonai,"  or  "my 

(88) 


©racles 


lord"  being  mistaken  by  the  Greeks  for  a  proper  name.  The  worship 
of  Attis  and  Tammuz,  since  it  was  fundamentally  an  adoration  of  the 
procreative  force  of  vernal  nature,  made  a  peculiar  appeal  to  women. 
It  even  influenced  Judaism.  For  Ezekiel  8: 14  mentions  the  u  women 
weeping  for  Tammuz  "  on  the  north  side  of  the  temple  in  Jerusalem,  and 
so  late  as  400  A  .D.  according  to  St.  Jerome,  the  worship  of  Tammuz 
prevailed  at  Bethlehem.  The  veneration  of  the  Virgin  in  the  church 
of  Rome  is  a  form  of  worship  of  this  Virgin-Venus  force,  so  potent 
and  so  creative,  which  penetrated  into  Christianity,  and  still  persists, 
although  the  token  has  been  lost.  Unfortunately  protestantism,- 
in  its  revolt  against  Roman  Catholicism,  has  wholly  destroyed  the 
sentiment.  Puritanism  converted  sensuousness  into  prudery  by 
corrupting  the  original  idea  of  virtue,  with  the  result  that  the  world 
is  aesthetically  and  spiritually  the  poorer.  That  sensuous  imagina 
tion  which  endowed  so  many  of  the  pagan  cults  of  antiquity  with 
beauty  has  been  crushed. 

Attis,  under  the  form  of  a  beautiful  and  sensuous  woman,  was  the 
incarnation  of  the  productive  capacity  of  natural  forces,  sunlight, 
moonlight,  sky,  winds,  rain,  to  fructify  the  earth,  represented  by 
Tammuz  under  the  guise  of  a  young  and  very  beautiful  youth.  The 
double  worship  of  the  two  symbolized  in  a  religious  "mystery"  the 
magic  drama  of  the  spring,  when  the  cold  and  apparently  dead,  but 
actually  only  sleeping  earth,  gradually  wakens  to  new  life  (hence 
Tammuz  is  a  youth],  under  the  warm  kisses  of  the  sun  and  the  touch 
of  vernal  winds. 

The  goddess  is  attired  in  a  sky-blue  robe  broidered  with  stars  and 
blazoned  with  the  signs  of  the  zodiac.  Her  long  hair  flows  free,  and 
seems  an  aureole  around  her  head.  Her  neck  and  throat  and  bosom 
are  bare,  as  are  also  her  feet.  Her  breasts,  as  white  as  curded  cream, 
are  not  concealed,  and  the  pinks  upon  their  hill-tops  are  red  as  anem 
ones  growing  in  snow.  Her  hands  are  filled  with  violets  and  hya 
cinths.  The  seemingly  dead  body  of  Tammuz  lies  covered  with 
flowers.  Under  the  temple  roof  the  altar  smokes  with  incense.  The 
"galli,"  or  priests,  wear  purple  robes  fringed  with  stars;  their  breasts 
are  bare  and  tattooed  with  a  pattern  of  ivy  leaves.  The  "damsels,"  or 
priestesses,  are  similarly  clad,  but  their  breasts  are  unadorned;  their 
hair  flows  free  over  their  shoulders.  All,  priests  and  priestesses,  are 
barefooted.  The  musical  instruments  are  cymbals,  castanets,  drums 
(for  the  monotones),  and  flutes. 

(89) 


Xost  ©racles 


The  action  takes  place  in  a  natural  meadow  immediately  in  front  of 
the  temple,  which  is  surrounded  by  venerable  walnut,  oak  and  sycamore 
trees.  The  deep  green  of  the  verdure  in  the  bottom  of  the  vale,  with 
the  white,  flashing  stream  coursing  through  it,  sharply  contrasts  with 
the  red  and  yellow  tints  of  the  cliffs  and  the  patch  of  blue  sky  above. 
Scarlet  anemones,  red  and  purple  hyacinths,  violets,  and  red  roses 
diadem  the  ground. 

HYMN  TO  ATTIS  (galli  and  damsels  standing  with  upstretched 
hands) 
Mother  and  Queen  of  Heaven,  Goddess,  haste, 

Down  from  the  sun  where  is  thy  bright  abode; 
Vouchsafe  thy  love  to  man,  for  that  thou  mayst. 

Hark,  how  in  ode  and  palinode 
We  chant  thy  praises,  0  divinest  power. 
See  how  with  hyacinths  and  roses  sowed, 
The  portals  of  thy  temple  are  bestrewed. 
Incense  from  Kandahar  afar, 
Myrrhodion  in  golden  jar. 
Woo  thee  as  spring  winds  woo  the  flower. 

Attis  appears  walking  out  of  the  temple,  with  slow  step  and  downcast 
eyes.  She  is  weeping.  When  she  reaches  the  recumbent  figure  of 
Tammuz,  she  breaks  into  passionate  sobs,  and  scatters  the  flowers 
over  his  corse. 

MONODY  BY  ATTIS 

Here  hungry  generations  tread 

Each  other  down; 
Too  soon  the  living  are  the  dead, 

The  flooding  years  soon  drown 
All  that  the  mind  and  hand  hath  wrought, 
All  things  man's  made  or  fancy  thought. 

SPRING  SONG  (damsels,  marching  in  a  circle  around  the  body 
of  Tammuz.  From  time  to  time  one  of  them  cuts  of  her  hair 
and  flings  it  down  upon  the  corse) 

Dead  to  time  and  space  and  number, 
Sleeps  the  seed  in  winter  slumber; 
(90) 


Ube  %ost  ©racks 


Cold  clay  wraps  its  tiny  form. 
Broken  boughs  and  leaves  encumber; 
Chill  the  snow  and  harsh  the  storm. 

GALLI  (moving  in  a  circle  around  the  inner  circle  of  priestesses) 
Be  not  downcast,  O  despondent 
Heart  of  man.     Soon,  soon,  respondent 

To  the  Spring's  warm  touch  a  blossom 
(Harbinger  of  corn  abundant), 

Shall  emerge  from  earth's  warm  bosom. 

DAMSELS 

Lapt  within  the  mother's  womb, 
Mankind's  marvellous  nursery  room, 

Nine  moons  long,  like  seed  in  earth, 
Sleeps  the  babe,  until  the  doom 

Of  nature  opes  the  door  of  birth. 

GALLI  AND  DAMSELS  (singing  together) 

Life,  Life,  Life!     Climb,  Climb,  Climb! 
Song,  Song,  Song!     Chime,  Chime,  Chime! 

Spring  after  winter  is  on  the  wing. 
Time,  Time,  Time!     Rhyme,  Rhyme,  Rhyme! 

God  is  Life,  and  Life  is  everything. 

Tammuz  stirs  slightly  like  a  sleeper  waking.  At  tke  faint  sign  of 
life  Attis,  in  an  abandon  of  joy  and  passion,  kneels  down  beside  him, 
kisses  his  mouth,  his  forehead,  caresses  him,  presses  her  glowing 
bosom  against  his  breast,  and  even  seems  as  if  to  give  him  suck.  She 
typifies  the  sunlight  shamelessly  caressing  earth. 

ATTIS  (singing) 

Is  it  death,  or  swoon,  or  sleep 

That  holds  him  in  her  quiet  arms  ? 
Death  is  death.     But  sleep  brings  dreams 
Which  stir  the  sleeper  with  their  charms. 

(91) 


ZTbe  OLost  ©racles 


See  ....  he  moves.     It  is  not  death: 
Mouth,  forehead,  cheeks  grow  roseate; 

Moist  the  hair  upon  his  brow; 

His  eyes  half  ope  with  thought  elate. 

Attis  throws  herself  upon  the  body  of  Tammuz,  every  accent  of  her 
voice,  every  movement  of  her  body  and  limbs  bespeaking  excessive 
sexual  passion.  She  tears  away  the  flowers  which  cover  Tammuz, 
and  lying  close  to  him,  puts  her  rosy  thigh  against  his,  as  if  she  would 
charm  from  him  that  seed  of  life,  that  seminal  radiance,  that  male  fire 
which  she  so  craves.  Slowly  Tammuz  wakens.  Finally  he  rises  up, 
smiling,  and  with  a  half  abashed  look  in  his  youthful  face.  Attis, 
radiantly  happy  now,  takes  him  by  the  hand,  and  blushing  and  smil 
ing,  leads  him  towards  the  temple,  where  the  last  act  of  the  symbolical 
marriage  of  earth  and  sky  was  consummated. 

CHORAL  RHAPSODY  (danced  with  frantic  ecstasy) 

O  floreate  Earth,  where  flowers  spring. 
O  aureate  sky,  where  the  stars  swing. 
O  laureate  air,  where  skylarks  sing: 
Give,  O  give  us  of  your  gladness, 

Your  rich  life  bestow. 
Teach,  O  teach  us  half  the  madness 

That  your  souls  do  know. 

Abruptly  the  sky  takes  on  a  fearful  glare,  and  a  rain  of  fire  begins  to 
fall.  The  temple  breaks  into  flame,  Attis  and  Tammuz  come  running 
forth  from  it  with  wild  cries  of  alarm.  The  priests  and  priestesses, 
in  dire  terror,  huddle  together  and  vainly  hold  up  their  instruments 
in  order  to  ward  off  the  drops  of  living  fire.  The  fire  runs  through 
the  grass,  withering  the  flowers.  The  trees  begin  to  smoke  in  the 
fervent  heat.  In  the  midst  of  the  cataract  of  flame  the  great  dragon 
Rahab  emerges  from  the  cavern  from  which  the  river  Adonis  springs. 
With  one  gigantic  leap  he  gains  the  meadow  in  front  of  the  temple, 
whose  shrivelling  structure  he  beats  into  flakes  of  fire. 

THE  DRAGON 

The  stagnant  waters  of  the  Dead  Sea,  dark 
With  over-hanging  clouds,  where  stark 

(92) 


ZTbe  OLost  ©racles 


The  bodies  of  the  drowned  dead  swing,  nor  rot, 

Me,  Rahab,  dragon  of  the  wrath  of  God,  begot. 

When  God  cleft  chaos  by  His  word, 

And  stars  and  suns  and  earth  averred, 

And  cleft  the  waters  from  the  land, 

And  made  the  mountains  to  upstand, 

He  left  the  Dead  Sea's  pool 

Exception  to  the  waters'  rule — 

A  bit  of  chaos  still,  a  lake 

Wherein  no  man  his  thirst  may  slake ; 

A  sea  wherein  no  fish  e'er  swims; 

Whose  shore  no  flag  nor  herbage  rims ; 

A  sea  whose  breath 

Exhaleth  death; 

Across  whose  face  no  bird  may  wing; 

A  sea  which  has  no  living  thing 

Save  me.     I  slake  my  thirst  with  brine; 

For  food  I  sulphur  eat; 

Hot  brass  and  iron  are  my  meat. 

My  lungs  breathe  smoke  instead  of  air; 

A  pit  of  pitch-slime  is  my  lair. 

The  dragon  coils  himself  like  a  huge  anaconda  around  the  bodies  of 

Attis  and  Tammuz,  which  he  proceeds  to  devour,  while  the  frightened 

group  of  worshipers,  too  terrified  to  flee,  stand  in  a  huddled  mass. 

PRIESTS  AND  PRIESTESSES 
Fire,  fire,  fire. 
Tyre,  Tyre,  Tyre. 
Lament,  lament,  lament. 
The  floor  of  hell  is  rent; 
The  Dead  Sea's  womb  is  split. 
From  his  dread  pit, 
The  dragon  Rahab's  crawled, 
His  eyes  like  emerald. 

(93) 


Xost  ©racies 


His  tongue  is  molten  lead  for  heat; 
Iron  is  his  belly,  brazen  are  his  feet. 

DRAGON  (gobbeting  a  morsel  of  human  flesh,  and  belching  flame 
from  his  nostrils) 
Luck,  luck,  luck! 
To  eat  a  goddess  like  a  duck! 
To  dine  on  limbs  like  these  for  meat ! 
Attis'  breasts  be  morsels  sweet; 
Tammuz,  thy  body  is  fair  flagon, 
With  good  wine  filled,  for  a  dragon. 

THRENODY  OF  PRIESTS  AND  PRIESTESSES 
Tyre,  Tyre,  Tyre, 
The  music  of  thy  viols 
Is  silenced  now. 
Tyre,  Tyre,  Tyre, 
God  hath  poured  out  His  phials 
Of  wrath  upon  thy  brow. 
Askalon,  thou  desolate  shalt  be; 
Anthedon,  thou  execrate  shalt  be. 
Daughters  of  Tyre, 
Cut  off  your  hair; 
Blackened  by  fire 
Your  faces  fair. 

Turban  thee  with  black  cloth,  Tyre. 
Girdle  thee  with  sackcloth,  Tyre. 
Woe,  woe,  woe, 
Now  Tyre  is  brought  low. 

The  voices  of  the  singers  grow  fainter  and  fainter  until,  at  last,  men 
and  women  are  sunk  into  one  crumbled,  shrivelled  heap  of  human 
remains — in  one  red  burial  blent.  The  fiery  rain  ceases  to  fall,  and 
a  red  and  acrid  smoke  envelopes  everything.  Through  the  scarlet 
obscurity  the  dragon,  now  gorged,  heavily  drags  himself  away  into 
the  cavern  in  the  face  of  the  cliff. 

(94) 


SCENE  4.    PHRYGIA 

Phrygia,  the  mountainous  interior  portion  of  Asia  Minor,  where 
are  the  sources  of  the  Sangaros,  the  Rhyndacos,  the  Hermos  and  the 
Meander  rivers,  was  the  original  home  of  the  worship  of  Cybele,  the 
incarnation  of  the  maternity  of  Nature  in  the  form  of  a  woman. 
Cybele  bears  resemblance  to  Attis  among  the  Syro-Phoenicians,  to 
Demeter  among  the  Greeks,  to  Bona  Dea  among  the  Romans.  The 
generative  faculty  of  nature  was  extravagantly  adored  by  the  Phrygians 
in  a  mystery  ritual  in  which  phallic  emblems  and  sexual  symbolism 
were  employed  to  an  intense  degree.  The  worship  was  eminently 
naturalistic.  But  under  the  refining  influence  of  Hellenism  many 
of  the  grosser  characteristics  of  the  worship  were  relieved  or  elimi 
nated,  so  that  the  cult  of  Cybele  approximated  to,  and  was  even 
fused  with,  the  worship  of  Aphrodite. 

One  of  the  saddest  things  pertaining  to  the  history  of  Greek  religion  is 
the  degeneracy  of  the  worship  of  Aphrodite.  Usually  conceived  as 
the  goddess  of  sensual  lust,  actually  Aphrodite  was  one  of  the  fairest 
and  divinest  concepts  of  the  Greek  genius.  Originally  she  was  the 
Queen  of  Life,  the  idealized  personification  of  the  creative  power  of 
nature.  She  was  the  beauty  and  power  of  Nature  incarnate.  The 
fall  of  man,  the  breaking  up  of  the  Golden  Age  of  the  gnomic  poets, 
was  the  end  of  the  reign  of  Aphrodite.  The  degeneration  of  Aphrodite- 
worship  was  the  prostitution  of  the  functional  production  of  life  to 
sensual  gratification  by  which  the  elemental  beauty  of  her  worship  was 
debased  and  then  destroyed.  The  fruit  it  bore  was  bitter  and  rotten. 
As  the  late  John  Addington  Symonds  has  written  in  his  "Studies  of 
Greek  Poets,"  with  reference  to  Sappho  and  the  Lesbian  school  of 
poetry:  "The  passions  which  for  a  moment  had  flamed  into  the  gorgeous- 
ness  of  art,  burnt  their  envelope  of  words  and  images,  and  remained  a 
mere  furnace  of  sensuality,  from  which  no  expression  of  the  divine  in 
human  life  could  be  expected."  But  as  it  is  not  just  to  judge  of  the 
beauty  of  the  human  form  and  the  function  of  the  human  body  by  its 
lesions  in  disease,  so  it  is  not  just  to  judge  the  worship  of  Aphrodite- 
Cybele  only  by  its  baser  and  more  debauched  manifestations.  At  its 
highest  and  best  it  was  very  beautiful. 

(95) 


%ost  ©racles 


The  temple  is  that  of  Cybcle- Aphrodite  near  Pessinante,  in  a  gorge 
of  the  Sangaros  river.  The  edifice  is  of  white  marble  in  the  Ionic 
style  of  architecture — an  architecture  singularly  feminine  and  chaste, 
so  to  speak,  contrasting  with  the  sterner,  masculine  Doric,  and  the  rich, 
but  weaker  and  degenerate  Corinthian,  which  was  the  rococo  of  the 
ancient  Greeks.  In  form  the  temple  is  a  roofless  quadrilateral.  At 
the  corners  of  the  facade  are  pedestalled  griffins,  with  lifted  talons, 
beaks  wide  open,  and  having  woman 's  breasts.  Within,  in  the  center 
of  the  roofless  temple,  standing  on  a  pedestal  of  bluish-grey  marble,  as 
if  to  typify  the  sea  whence  she  arose,  is  a  Parian  marble  statue  of 
Aphrodite  Anadyomene,  cold  and  clean,  naked  and  chaste,  the  visible, 
embodied  symbol  of  the  most  beautiful  thing  in  nature,  the  female 
form  divine.  The  late  afternoon  sun  of  springtime  bathes  the  figure 
in  rosy  shadows.  A  flock  of  pigeons,  birds  sacred  to  Venus- Aphrodite, 
sit  around  the  interior  ledge  of  the  quadrilateral,  cooing  softly.  Aphro 
dite  stands  as  if  listening  to  their  dulcet  notes,  with  a  far  away  wistful 
look  in  her  eyes  as  if  she  saw,  too,  the  sea  whence  she  derived  her  birth. 
The  statue  is  the  supreme  product  of  Greek  sculpture,  radiantly 
expressive  of  mind  and  soul  as  well  as  of  physical  beauty.  The 
pedestal  is  situated  in  a  tiny  garden  brillant  with  hyacinths  and  red 
roses.  In  front  of  the  statue  is  an  altar  ornamented  by  a  crystal  ball  at 
each  angle.  The  smoke  of  incense  is  slowly  curling  upwards.  The 
odor  is  that  of  myrrhodion,  the  champagne  of  incenses,  which  imparted 
an  exquisitely  light  and  volatile  sense  of  intoxication  to  the  worshipers. 
The  action  takes  place  on  a  marble  parvis  before  the  altar.  From  this 
point  of  view  the  pine  trees  on  the  surrounding  hills  stand  out  with  dark 
and  majestic  dignity,  being  actually  pointed  firs  fretted  against  the 
western  sky,  now  bright  with  azure,  rose  and  pearl-grey  lights.  Both 
priests  and  priestesses,  of  which  there  are  eighteen,  evenly  divided 
between  the  sexes,  are  clad  in  pure  white  linen  robes  with  fluted  purple 
borders.  Each  priest  carries  a  calathos,  or  white  wand  in  his  hand. 
The  priestesses,  technically  called  "dactyls,"  carry  Lydian  pipes,  and 
a  few  of  them  have  tambourines. 

PRIESTS  AND  DACTYLS  (togetJier) 

Whist,  O  whist,  Aegean  wind, 

She  is  too  pure  for  thy  warm  kisses. 
Go,  woo  the  violets  entwined 
In  Arcady's  deep  vale  of  blisses. 
(96) 


ZTbe  Xost  Oracles 


PRIESTS  (singing,  con  sordino) 

Daughter  of  Phrygia,  veil  those  eyes  of  thine, 

Their  beauty  pierceth  me; 
Blinded  by  loveliness  divine, 

I  can  not  see 

The  altar  of  thy  worship,  nor  the  shrine. 
Daughter  of  Phrygia,  reach  thy  hand. 

I,  too  bewildered  worshiper, 

A  baffled  wanderer, 
Thy  hand  in  mine,  my  hand  in  thine, 
Guided  by  thee,  O  then  shall  understand. 

THE  DACTYLS  (to  music  of  a  soft  Lydian  air) 
Breathless  with  adoration 

The  moon  and  stars  do  stand; 
Mute  with  sweet  contemplation 

Silent  lies  all  the  land. 
The  rose  her  petals  showers 

In  the  soft  evening  air, 
And  all  the  other  flowers 

Seem  kneeling  as  in  prayer. 

THE  PRIESTS  (standing  erect,  but  with  their  hands  over  their  eyes, 
as  if  the  goddess  were  too  pure  for  mortal  eyes  to  regard.  The 
dactyls,  kneeling  behind  them,  play  so  softly  upon  their  pipes 
that  the  music  is  barely  audible  as  a  low  undertone,  and  seems 
to  come  from  the  upper  air  rather  than  from  the  instruments) 
Pure  as  the  dew  of  the  damask  rose, 

Sweet  as  the  breath  of  violets, 
Soft  as  the  light  at  even's  close, 
Tender  as  plaint  of  flageolets, 
Dear  as  remembered  kisses  seem 

Of  youth's  sweetheart  one  half  forgets, 
Fleeting  as  melodies  in  dream, 
Or  April  showers  wet. 

(97) 


ZEbe  %ost  ©racles 


Thy  beauty  baffles  every  sense, 

O  more  than  rose  to  me. 
Odors  of  galbanum  and  myrrh, 

What  are  they,  close  to  thee  ? 
O  Soul  as  white  as  heaven, 

What  are  snows  to  thee  ? 

All  rise,  and  an  exquisitely  beautiful  dance  of  priests  and  priestesses 
is  begun  before  the  altar,  in  which  the  litheness,  the  lightness,  the 
symmetry  of  the  Greek  body  is  manifested  almost  in  perfection.  Before 
beginning  each  actor  takes  a  handful  of  bright  and  very  fine  sand, 
which  glitters  like  gold  dust,  from  a  shell-shaped  vessel  not  unlike  a 
holy  water  basin  inform,  and  scatters  the  sand  upon  the  floor.  As  they 
dance  the  brilliant  particles  are  distributed  like  a  host  by  their  flying 
feet,  so  that  the  air  becomes  that  of  a  golden  mist,  an  effect  enhanced 
by  the  rays  of  the  late  afternoon  sun  shining  through. 

CHORAL  DANCE 

With  dactyled  beat 

Of  twinkling  feet, 

Clothed  in  a  mist  of  motion, 

We  dance  and  flow 

As  waters  go 

From  mountain  source  to  ocean. 

Time  chimes, 

Life  climbs, 

The  sun  is  in  heaven, 

The  earth's  in  God's  hand, 

The  piUars  of  truth 

Ever  shall  stand. 

Suddenly  the  tender  daylight  goes  out,  and  the  sky  becomes  ashen-grey 
in  hue.  The  pigeons,  with  frightened  cries,  take  flight.  While  the 
happy  worshipers  are  standing  in  mute  wonderment  at  what  has 
happened,  the  head  of  a  gigantic  violet-colored  snake  with  a  trilobite 
crest  rises  menacingly  over  the  architrave  of  the  temple.  His  body 
rapidly  follows  in  huge,  scaly  coils.  Simultaneously  the  great  bronze 
gates  of  entrance  to  the  temple  are  shut  with  brazen  clangor,  as  if  by 

(98) 


ZTbe  OLost  trades 


an  unseen  hand,  thus  locking  the  priests  and  priestesses  within.  Too 
petrified  with  fear  to  cry  out  or  run,  the  hapless  company  stands  mute, 
while  the  python  sinuously  advances  and  slowly  folds  his  coils  around 
the  figure  of  Aphrodite.  In  the  semi-darkness  his  eyes  glow  like 
carbuncles,  and  a  fetid  fume  is  ejected  from  his  mouth  which  at  last 
overpowers  all. 

THE  SNAKE 

Hell's  gate's  ajar. 
I  am  Aksar, 
The  avatar 

Of  God's  red  justice  flaming  far. 
I  come  with  doom 
Forth  from  the  gloom 
Of  subterranean  brake 
Beside  Avernus  lake. 
I  am  Aksar  the  Snake. 
Moses  I  frightened  in 
The  wilderness  of  Sin; 
When  Greece,  in  ages  gone, 
Made  war  'gainst  Ilion, 
The  priest  Laocoon 
With  his  three  sons  I  choked, 
While  Troy  with  burning  smoked. 
Off  of  Charybdis'  rips 
I  lie  in  wait  for  ships 
What  time  the  red  moon  drips 
With  storm,  and  tempest  lips 
Wild  gales  blow  up  that  sweep  the  decks 
Of  laboring  ships, 
And  pile  with  wrecks 
The  iron  coast  of  Sicily 
And  reefs  of  Lipari. 
My  sinewy  coils  can  Taurus  range 
Into  a  heap  of  crushed  rock  change. 
(99) 


ZTbe  %ost  ©racles 


The  darkness  is  as  light  to  me, 
The  frightened  day  from  me  doth  flee. 
Full  well,  full  well,  ye  know  your  lot, 
Laocoon  is  not  forgot. 

As  this  awful  chant  proceeds  the  worshipers  gradually  sink  down 
to  the  pavement  and  fail.  The  darkness  becomes  complete.  But  from 
the  carbuncle-like  eyes  of  the  great  snake  there  is  light  enough  to 
discern  his  python  folds  coiled  around  the  figure  of  Aphrodite,  his 
sinister,  forked  tongue  licking  her  body.  The  slime  with  which  the 
serpent  covers  her  gives  ojf  a  baleful,  phosphorescent  glow  in  the  dark 
ness.  He  is  the  visible  embodiment  of  all  that  is  horrible,  the  incarna 
tion  of  a  desolation  not  merely  physical,  but  of  the  soul. 


(100) 


SCENE  5.    PERSIA 

A  wide  plain  in  Iran.  The  hour  is  just  before  sunrise  in  the  spring. 
On  the  flattened  top  of  a  knoll  is  a  square  altar  built  of  stones,  on 
which  a  fire  of  faggots  and  aromatic  herbs  is  burning.  Five  priests 
in  brilliant  red  robes  (to  simulate  the  sacred  fire) ,  with  veiled  faces  and 
gloved  hands,  in  order  not  to  pollute  the  holy  flame  by  either  breath 
or  touch,  are  officiating.  Save  for  the  vesture  of  the  priests  the  apparatus 
of  worship  is  simple,  even  primitive.  The  worshipers  are  gathered 
around  the  knoll.  In  the  darkness  their  rude  shepherd  costumes  are 
but  vaguely  discernible.  Farther  out  beyond  the  ring  of  men  and 
women  the  forms  of  cattle,  horses,  and  sheep  feeding  or  at  rest  may 
be  descried.  Against  the  grey  horizon  line,  toward  the  east,  where  the 
sun  is  just  beginning  to  relieve  the  black  wall  of  cloud,  the  peaks  of 
some  of  the  huge,  round  skin  or  felt  tents  of  the  Persians  are  outlined 
like  silhouettes. 

The  ancient  Persians  were  a  pastoral  people,  dwelling  with  their  flocks 
and  herds  on  the  high  and  windy  plateaus  of  Iran,  and  kept  the 
primitive  faith  of  Zoroaster  long  after  the  more  cultivated  and  refined 
urban  populations  of  the  great  cities  like  Ctesiphon  and  Susafell  away, 
or  fused  the  ancient  belief  and  ritual  with  those  of  other  cults.  The 
Persians  were  not  idolators.  They  venerated  the  greater  manifestations 
of  nature.  Wind  and  rain,  tempest  and  sunshine,  day  and  night 
were  regarded  by  them  as  special  theophanies  of  one  supreme  God, 
namely  the  Sun.  For  this  reason  Fire  was  regarded  as  holy,  and 
was  the  chief  medium  of  their  worship.  The  Sun  was  the  symbol  of 
light,  of  goodness,  of  mercy,  of  justice,  of  virtue.  Naturally  this 
way  of  thinking  ultimately  led  to  a  dualistic  form  of  belief.  The 
antithesis  of  light  being  darkness,  of  day  being  night,  of  white  being 
black,  of  good  being  bad,  of  right  being  wrong,  of  justice  being  injustice, 
belief  in  a  god  of  evil  was  gradually  developed  in  the  Persian  mind. 
Both  were  personified,  God,  or  "Good,"  under  the  name  of  Mazda,  or 
Ahuramazda,  whose  chief  archangel  was  Mithras,  or  Light,  originally 
thought  of  as  a  manifestation  of  the  sun,  but  who  later  absorbed  or 
effaced  Ahuramazda,  giving  rise  to  Mithraism,  the  form  of  Persian 
worship  which  prevailed  in  the  time  of  the  Roman  Empire.  From 
the  Persian  personification  of  the  Spirit  of  Darkness  and  Evil  came 

(101) 


3Lo9t  ©racles 


the  Satan,  or  Prince  of  Darkness  and  Evil,  of  Christianity,  the  Tempter 
who  carried  Christ  up  into  a  high  mountain  and  offered  him  all  the 
kingdoms  of  the  earth  if  he  would  fall  down  and  worship  him.  The 
founder  of  the  Iranian  religion  was  Zarathustra,  or  Zoroaster,  who 
perhaps  flourished  about  1000  B.C.  In  the  Avesta  we  have  the  Bible 
or  Koran  of  the  Persians.  In  it,  however,  Zoroaster  has  ceased  to  be 
a  great  religious  teacher  and  become  an  energumen,  much  as  the 
supernatural  and  miraculous  Christ-God  succeeded  the  man  and 
religious  teacher  called  Jesus. 

PRIESTS  (singing) 

Change,  change,  change! 

Range,  range,  range! 

Strange,  strange,  strange! 

Nothing's  ever  twice  the  same; 

Nothing  lasts.    Life  is  flame, 

A  moment  kindled, 

Then  to  socket  dwindled. 

Tune  and  flow 

Wash  all  below, 

All  things  swiftly  go. 

Whither  ?    Whence  ? 

Impermanence 

Pervades  all  things, 

Moon's  wanderings — 

The  stars  in  their  courses 

Speed  like  chariot  horses; 

Winds  blow  as  they  list, 

Come  and  go,  dost  thou  wist 

Whence  they  come  or  whither  go  ? 

Thence  ?    Thither  ? 

Whence?    Whither? 

Dost  thou  know  ? 

The  High  Priest  throws  new  wood  upon  the  fire,  which  blazes  brightly, 
illuminating  the  dark  faces  of  the  throng  gathered  around. 

(102) 


ZTbe  Xost  ©racles 


HIGH  PRIEST 

The  eternal  God  is  Fire. 

His  voice  is  in  the  thunder. 
PRIESTS 

His  whisper  is  in  the  wind. 

The  dawn  is  his,  for  he  made  it. 
HIGH  PRIEST 

The  twilight  is  his,  for  he  made  it. 

Night  and  day  are  of  his  generation, 

Of  thy  generation,  O  glorious  Sun. 
PRIESTS 

The  sky  is  the  cape  of  his  shoulders, 

The  earth  is  his  footstool. 

HIGH  PRIEST 

Rain  and  snow  are  manifestations  of  thee, 

All  things  grow  through  thee,  and  without  thee 

Doth  nothing  grow  that  hath  life. 

PRIESTS 

Who  determineth  the  path  of  the  stars  ? 
Whose  power  makes  the  moon  to  wax  and  wane  ? 
Who  upholds  the  earth  from  beneath  ? 
And  keeps  the  firmament  from  falling  ? 

HIGH  PRIEST 

Who  milks  the  clouds,  and  sendeth  rain  ? 
Who  hath  yoked  swiftness  to  the  wind  ? 
What  artist  made  light  and  darkness  ? 
Who  giveth  his  beloved  sleep  ? 

PRIESTS 

Who  numbereth  the  winkings  of  men's  eyelids  ? 
Who  calculates  the  pulse-throbs  in  the  wrist  ? 
Or  measureth  the  breath  of  every  one  ? 
Who  createth  welfare  and  giveth  immortality  ? 
Who  is  the  source  of  right  ? 

(103) 


TTbe  Xost  trades 


ALL 

GOD.     Even  the  Sun,  which  is  the  brightness  of  his  glory, 

And  the  express  image  of  his  person. 

HIGH  PRIEST 

Great  is  the  might  of  song. 

It  has  made  men  out  of  stones,  and  men  out  of  beasts; 

It  has  composed  the  world  in  melodious  order; 

It  has  marked  the  bounds  of  ocean. 

Men  live  by  listening  to  song, 

Let  us  adore  the  Holy  One,  even  the  Sun. 

HYMN  TO  THE  SUN 

On  high  the  all-possessing  God, 
The  Sun,  comes  upward  with  a  shout. 
As  they  were  thieves,  flee  from  his  rod 
The  myriad  stars,  their  lanthorns  out. 
The  steeds  yoked  to  his  car  are  seven. 
Up,  up,  the  wide  highway  of  heaven 
The  Sun-God  rides,  his  streaming  hair 
Like  flame  floats  in  the  lambent  air. 
The  clouds,  like  kine,  go  forth  to  feed 
On  stellar  plants  and  comet-weed. 
He  milks  the  clouds  when  earth  has  need 
Of  rain.     He  makes  the  kine  to  breed. 
Creatures  of  water  and  of  land 
He  giveth  birth  unto.     His  hand 
Scatters  the  seed,  barley  and  wheat, 
That  hungry  man  may  have  to  eat; 
He  giveth  man  the  date  fruit  yellow; 
He  makes  the  tamarind  grow  mellow. 

Blessings  glow  on  us,  0  Sun. 

Blessings  blow  on  us,  O  Wind. 

Tell  us,  O  thou  Glorious  One, 

If  Night  has  fled,  can  Day  be  far  behind  ? 
(104) 


ZTbe  Xost  Oracles 


The  dawn  begins  to  glow  brightly.    A  priest  piles  more  faggots  and 
aromatic  herbs  upon  the  fire,  which  mounts  in  a  pillar  of  flame. 

HIGH  PRIEST 

The  will  of  God  is  the  law  of  holiness: 
Sacrifice,  propitiation  and  glory  be  unto  Thee. 

FIRE  SONG 

Fire,  Fire,  Fire, 
With  wings  which  never  tire 
Fly  higher,  higher,  higher. 
Over  the  mountain's  ledge, 
Over  the  cloudlet's  edge, 
Over  the  rainbow's  bridge, 
Over  the  starry  ridge. 
Poppy-red  thy  petals, 
Yellow  is  thy  stalk; 
In  thy  flame  the  metals 
Dance  and  sing  and  talk. 
Odors  of  balsam  and  myrrh, 
Spikenard,  cedar  and  thorn 
Up  a  ladder  of  smoke-wreaths 
Climb  like  vines  in  the  corn. 
The  sun  comes  up. 
Fire, 

Faster,  faster,  faster, 
Zoroaster 
Prays  for  thee. 
Fire, 

Faster,  faster,  faster, 
Blaze  for  me. 
Burn,  burn,  cleft  wood, 
Wood  to  fire  should; 
Leap,  leap,  red  Fire, 
To  the  stars  aspire. 
(105) 


TIbe  Xost  ©racles 


Seethe,  seethe,  hot  Water, 
Of  Mother  Fire  daughter. 

Suddenly  a  shadow  falls.  The  startled  worshipers  regarding  the  sun 
see  the  figure  as  of  a  mighty  hand  slowly  moving  across  the  disc.  At 
the  same  time  the  clouds  pile  up  black  with  storm,  and  a  freezing  wind 
begins  to  blow  down  from  the  north  across  the  steppe.  The  fire  seethes 
and  sizzles,  and  finally  goes  out,  exhaling  a  black  column  of  smoke 
with  a  gasp  like  that  of  some  expiring  animal.  Priests  and  people 
break  out  into  cries  of  lamentation.  To  the  confused  and  frightened 
minds  of  the  observers,  the  black  rack  of  clouds  racing  with  the  tempest 
has  the  aspect  of  horses  running  wildly  down  the  sky.  An  appalling 
storm  of  ice  and  sleet  envelopes  everything  in  a  furious  blizzard.  The 
frightened  horses  and  cattle  stampede;  the  sheep  begin  to  "mill"  until 
they  sink  down  exhausted  to  die.  The  snow  piles  up  in  huge  drifts. 
Dismayed  and  frozen  the  wretched  people  stumble  and  fall  in  the  blind 
ing  gale.  At  last,  when  the  storm  has  spent  its  fury  and  the  sun  blows 
dear,  it  shines  upon  a  white  wilderness  with  no  living  thing  visible. 
The  corpses  of  men  and  animals  strow  the  ground  like  flies  frozen  upon 
a  blank,  white  wall. 

A  SHEPHERD 

My  father,  my  father.     The  chariots  of  the  Storm. 
Father,  father,  father,  I  see  his  dreadful  form. 

A  PRIEST 

Horse,  horse,  horse, 

Drive  down  the  skyey  course. 

Against  their  charge 

No  spear,  no  targe 

Availeth  man. 

Let  save  himself  who  can. 

SECOND  PRIEST 

The  sun  grows  black, 
A  frightful  rack 

Of  cloud  is  heaped  upon  his  back. 
(106) 


Zlbe  Xost  ©racies 


HIGH  PRIEST 

Earth  crawls, 

Sky  falls, 

Heaven's  walls 

With  fear  collapse. 

Night  and  Day 

Be  driven  away, 

The  world  to  chaos  doth  relapse. 

VOICE  OF  THE  BLIZZARD 
Blow,  blow! 
Zero! 

Freeze,  Cold! 
Snow,  fold! 
Horses,  kine, 
Men  are  mine! 
My  frigid  breath 
Ordaineth  death! 

A  WOMAN'S  CRY  OUT  or  THE  SNOW 
Darkness  wins, 
Death  begins. 


(107) 


SCENE  6.     HELLAS 

The  Temple  of  Demeter,  on  the  highest  part  of  the  island  of  Cnidus> 
near  the  Carian  coast.  Built  wholly  of  Parian  marble,  its  very 
whitness  is  symbolic  of  purity.  Inform  it  is  much  like  the  Erectheum 
at  Athens,  the  facade,  instead  of  being  supported  by  columns  being 
upheld  by  caryatids,  or  the  figures  of  beautiful  maidens  whose  superb 
grace  is  a  wonderful  union  of  the  static  and  the  dynamic  forces  in 
Greek  architecture.  Their  calm  eyes,  which  look  seaward,  seem  as  if 
gazing  over  futurity  into  the  eternity  of  time  beyond.  They  seem, 
indeed,  as  they  dreamily  gaze  on  the  sunbeam's  play  and  the  shadow's 
mark,  to  be  lifted  above  time  and  place,  and  to  be  blessed  in  themselves. 
Demeter  was  primarily  worshiped  as  the  goddess  who  brought  forth 
the  wheat  for  man's  sustenance,  as  Dionysos  made  the  vine  to  grow- 
But  in  a  larger  sense  Demeter  came  to  be  worshiped  as  perhaps  the 
loveliest  representative  of  beneficent  nature.  Ceres  was  the  kindred 
Latin  deity.  She  was  portrayed,  not  as  of  virginal  beauty  like 
Aphrodite,  but  rather  of  matronly  aspect,  the  personification  of  mother 
love  and  of  the  maternal  qualities  of  nature.  The  myth  of  Demeter  has 
appealed  to  the  mind  of  many  generations,  and  the  telling  of  the  legends 
pertaining  to  her  history  and  her  worship  has  taxed  the  imagination  of 
many  poets,  among  them  Tennyson  and  Swinburne.  The  cult 
of  Demeter  was  singularly  pure  and  refined,  and  the  "mysteries" 
possessed  an  elusive,  delicate  melancholy  which  was,  perhaps,  the 
very  limit  of  charm  in  Greek  religion. 

The  statue  of  the  goddess  stands  at  the  far  end  of  the  naos  or  nave. 
The  walls  of  the  temple  are  unpierced  by  windows.  The  temple  is 
roofed.  The  only  entrance  into  the  nave  is  the  single  door,  which,  as 
in  all  Greek  temples,  is  toward  the  east  in  order  to  catch  the  rays  of 
the  morning  sun.  The  quiet  and  the  dim  light  of  the  interior  impart 
that  air  of  inalienable  mystery  found  in  the  worship  of  many  religions. 
A  golden  lattice,  answering  to  the  r credos  in  a  Christian  cathedral, 
separates  the  holy  of  holies  from  the  nave.  Two  bronze  censers  of 
exquisite  workmanship,  emit  curling  wreaths  of  fragrant  smoke  which 
float  around  the  capitals  of  the  columns  in  light  blue  clouds.  A  single 
lamp  throws  the  parvis  in  front  of  the  lattice  into  relief,  but  serves  to 
accentuate  the  darkness  roundabout.  The  priests  and  priestesses 

(108) 


Ube  Xost  ©racles 


officiating  are  dad  in  white  linen  robes  broidered  with  green  and 
yellow  flutings  indicative  of  green  and  ripened  wheat,  which  are 
gathered  at  the  waist  by  a  violet  girdle.  Their  shoes  are  of  white 
leather  with  golden  soles.  Their  brows  are  bound  with  fillets,  the 
ends  of  which  hang  down  upon  their  shoulders,  and  terminate  in  tassels 
shaped  like  beards  of  wheat.  The  hair  of  the  priestesses  is  tightly 
bound  in  a  pretty  knot,  and  that  of  both  men  and  women  powdered 
with  gold  dust  to  simulate  ripened  grain. 

INVOCATION  TO  DEMETER 

The  tidal  waters  at  their  priest-like  task, 
With  touch  of  cleansing  hand, 
Wash  round  the  island  strand. 
The  daedal  sunlight  from  day's  golden  flask 
A  liquid  radiance  pours 
On  hills  and  shores. 
Demeter,  dear  Demeter, 
Demeter,  hear,  Demeter! 
O,  let  some  cleansing  tide  flow  in 
To  wash  our  hearts  from  taint  of  sin; 
O,  let  an  inward  radiance 
The  thin  flame  of  our  souls  enhance. 
Sweeter,  sweeter,  sweeter 

Than  honey  from  the  glen, 
Demeter,  O  Demeter, 
Thy  name  on  lips  of  men. 
O  lovely  Grecian  idyl, 
O  flashing  waters  tidal, 
O  golden  sunlight  daedal, 
Restore,  restore, 
Our  hearts  once  more! 
A  PRIESTESS  (singing) 

With  muted  strings 
My  sad  heart  sings. 
The  world  is  grey 
With  grief  today; 

(109) 


ZTbe  %ost  ©racles 


The  skies  are  lead, 

Cold  is  the  ground, 

The  earth  is  dead, 

Her  drooping  head 

With  sackcloth's  bound. 

No  flower,  no  leaf, 

No  harvest  sheaf 

Is  manifest,  but  only  grief. 

Time's  cruel  scythe 

Has  mowed  the  flowers, 

No  birdsong  blithe 

Beguiles  the  hours. 

Alas,  for  life, 

Alas,  for  breath; 

The  earth  seems  given 

To  conquering  death. 

Singer  and  song 

Are  gone  with  the  throng; 

Lover  and  lass, 

Flower  and  grass, 

Soon  fade  and  pass. 

Shepherd  and  sheep, 

The  flock,  they  that  keep, 

They  that  sing,  they  that  weep. 

Ebb  and  flow; 

We  come,  we  go. 

Whence  ?    Who  knows  ? 

Or  whither  goes  ? 

Where  is  the  birdsong  of  last  year  ? — the  birds  ? 

Where  are  the  lovers  of  last  year  ? — the  words 

Which  glowed  upon  their  lips  like  gold  ?  .  .  .  . 

Spring  flies  fast,  and  youth  is  old. 

(no) 


ZTbe  %ost  ©racles 


PRIESTS  AND  PRIESTESSES 

One,  one,  to  thee  are  watch  and  slumber; 

One,  one,  to  thee  are  space  and  number. 

Thou,  thou  alone  remainest,  we 

Do  change  and  pass  like  ships  at  sea. 

O  Goddess,  give  to  us  a  balm. 

Lend  us  of  thy  marmoreal  calm. 

Some  handfuls  of  strongly  aromatic  incense  are  thrown  upon  the 
censers,  and  the  interior  of  the  temple  is  pervaded  by  a  soft,  yellow  light, 
which  makes  it  seem  as  if  the  glow  of  the  outside  sunlight  had  pene 
trated  within.  The  relief  from  the  sombreness  hitherto  prevailing  is 
spiritually  reflected  in  the  demeanor  and  the  voices  of  the  worshipers, 
whose  feelings  change  from  one  of  half  mystical  melancholy  to  one 
of  buoyancy. 

SECOND  PRIESTESS  (singing) 

I  hear  the  seed  cry  'neath  the  ground: 

"O  lightly  lie  on  me. 
From  God  to  God  my  way  runs  round, 

O,  life  is  sweet  to  me." 

I  hear  a  bird-song  in  this  shell. 

It  whispereth  to  me: 
"Wait,  wait,  till  God  shall  break  the  spell, 

Then  I  shall  sing  to  thee." 

I  hear  the  sap  pulse  in  the  wood, 

'T  is  eloquent  of  power. 
I  hear  the  murmur  of  the  bud: 

"Ah,  wait  until  I  flower." 

I  hear  the  breathing  of  the  earth, 

Her  fragrant  breath's  like  wine. 
Comes  back  to  me  the  dream  at  birth — 

Mother  thou  art  of  mine. 

(in) 


Ube  %ost  ©racles 


I  hear  the  beat  of  nature's  heart, 

No  wind's  so  sweet,  so  wild. 
Radiant  Mother,  O  Earth,  thou  art, 

And  I  thy  wondering  child. 

With  syrinxes  in  hand  the  now  happy  group  dances  and  sings  to  the 
soft  music  of  the  simple  pipes.  Save  for  the  environment  of  marble 
walls  and  columns  instead  of  trees  and  walls  of  shrubbery,  the  scene 
might  seem  to  be  in  Arcadia.  Nature  seems  articulate  in  their 
singing. 

ALL  (singing} 

In  the  clover,  in  the  bee, 
In  the  wind's  sweet  minstrelsy, 
In  the  egg  and  in  the  bird, 
In  the  rose's  perfumed  word 
God  is  heard. 

In  the  ocean's  throbbing  tide, 
On  the  plains  serene  and  wide, 
On  the  rugged  mountain  side 
God  doth  ride. 

In  the  procreant  fire  of  man, 
In  the  womb's  mysterious  span, 
In  the  babe  that's  generate 
From  the  love  of  mate  for  mate 
God's  elate. 

The  golden  gloom,  "no  light,  but  rather  darkness  visible"  abruptly 
turns  to  dusk,  the  dusk  to  darkness.  Simultaneously  a  wave  of  dark 
ness,  as  it  were  a  wall  of  water,  invades  the  temple,  pouring  through 
the  door  in  a  flood  of  blackness  so  thick  that  it  almost  seems  a  tangible 
entity.  The  great  lamp  hanging  from  the  roof  struggles  and  leaps, 
and  seems,  as  it  were,  to  pant  for  light  as  a  drowning  man  pants  for 
breath.  The  altar  fire  and  the  censers  go  out  with  something  like  a 
sigh.  The  priests  and  priestesses  break  out  into  inarticulate  lamenta- 

(112) 


TIbe  Xost  trades 


lions.  In  the  midst  of  the  terror  and  consternation  the  statue  of 
Demeter  finds  voice  but  her  words  sound  as  if  coming  from  an  almost 
infinite  distance,  like  the  voices  one  hears  in  dreams.  The  tones  are 
remote,  eerie,  ancestral,  as  if  the  voice  of  ages  past  were  speaking  out 
of  the  depths  of  infinite  longing  and  imperisliable  regret. 

THE  STATUE  OF  DEMETER 
Calling,  calling,  calling: 

I  hear  Pan's  anguished  cry. 
Falling,  falling,  falling, 

The  gods  of  Greece  shall  die. 
Banished,  banished,  banished, 

From  hill- top  and  from  highland; 
Vanished,  vanished,  vanished, 

From  sunny  vale  and  island. 
On  Sunium's  promontory 

Wild  goats  shall  crop  the  steep, 
While  Hellas'  lore  and  glory 

In  endless  night  shall  sleep. 
Delphi's  oracle  is  dumb; 
No  joyous  chants,  no  golden  hum 
Of  Dionysian  ecstasies 
More  shall  greet  the  turquoise  skies. 
Eleusis'  mysteries  are  mute, 
Shivered  pipe  and  timbrel,  broken  is  the  flute. 

Lost,  lost,  lost! 
Like  butterflies  in  frost 
The  gods  and  goddesses  of  Greece 
With  broken  wings  sink  down.     Cease  ....  cease 
Your  wailing  ....  priestess  ....  priest. 
Now  is  north  south,  now  is  west  east; 
The  world  sinks  down  upon  its  corner-posts, 
The  mountains  slide,  the  storied  coasts 

Of  Hellas  slip  into  the  sea 

Greece  ....  Greece  ....  is  this  ....  thy  destiny  ? 

(113) 


TTbe  %ost  Oracles 


A  horror  of  thick  darkness  by  this  time  has  enveloped  the  whole  interior 
of  the  temple,  a  darkness  which  weighs  upon  the  senses,  which  can  be 
felt,  which  strangles  like  a  noxious  gas.  Through  it  rises  the  wail  of 
the  perishing  worshipers,  which,  as  the  monody  proceeds,  becomes 
fainter  and  fainter  until  the  last  verses  are  reduced  to  a  mere  whisper 
which  finally  dies  out  in  the  sigh  of  a  single  priestess  whose  voice  has 
something  divinely  tragic  in  its  utterance.  It  is  more  the  voice  of  a 
mortally  wounded  and  dying  god  than  of  a  human  being. 

MONODY 

To  everything  there  is  a  season, 

To  every  purpose  under  sun 

There  is  a  time,  a  rhyme,  a  reason; 

Of  myriad  threads  man's  life  is  spun. 

A  time  of  birth, 

A  time  to  die, 

A  time  to  dwell  on  earth, 

A  time  in  earth  to  lie. 

A  time  to  weep, 

A  time  to  laugh, 

A  tune  to  eat, 

A  time  to  quaff, 

A  time  to  creep, 

A  time  to  walk, 

A  time  to  be  silent, 

A  time  to  talk. 

A  time  to  get, 

A  time  to  spend, 

Time  to  forget, 

And  time  to  lend. 

A  time  to  plough, 

A  time  to  sow, 

A  time  to  reap, 

A  time  to  mow. 

(114) 


Ube  Xost  ©racles 


A  time  to  sleep, 

A  time  to  wander, 

A  time  to  keep, 

A  time  to  squander. 

A  time  to  travail, 

A  time  to  joy, 

A  time  to  ravel, 

Time  to  employ. 

A  time  ....  when  things  are  new, 

A  time  ....  when  things  are  through, 

A  time  ....  when  things  are  to  be  told, 

A  time  ....  when  silence  is  as  gold. 

A  time  ....  for  ....  hopes, 

A  time  ....  for  ....  fears, 

A  time  ....  for  song  .... 

A  time  ....  for  ....  tears  .... 

A  ....  time  ....  for breath 

A  .         .  time  .         .  for  .         .  death. 


(us) 


SCENE  7.    ROME 

Interior  of  the  Pantheon  at  night.  A  colossal  marble  statue  of 
Olympian  Zeus  (the  Roman  Jupiter}  stands  in  the  middle  of  the 
edifice.  Its  workmanship  shows  that  it  is  the  product  of  a  Greek,  not 
a  Roman  sculptor.  The  countenance  is  one  of  great  dignity  and  maj 
esty,  with  an  Olympian  serenity  of  brow  becoming  the  Greatest  of  the 
Gods,  and  all  in  all  is  evidence  of  the  drift  towards  monotheism  which 
characterized  the  religious  history  of  imperial  Rome.  This  effect 
of  Olympian  grandeur  is  heightened  by  the  expanse  of  starred  sky 
seen  through  the  enormous  aperture  in  the  dome,  and  the  flood  of 
moonlight  falling  from  above,  which  robes  the  majestic  figure  of  the 
God  in  a  silver  mantle,  and  gives  the  impression  of  Jove  enthroned  upon 
Mount  Olympus.  In  niches  around  the  sides  stand  statues  of  the 
twelve  great  gods  and  goddesses,  before  each  of  which  an  altar  smokes. 
The  architrave  is  borne  by  fluted  columns  of  giallo  antico,  or  yellow 
marble.  Above  it,  and  corresponding  with  the  niches,  rises  a  series  of 
arches  sustained  by  caryatids.  The  attica,  or  attic  story,  is  adorned 
with  porphyry  and  serpentine  decorations.  The  roof  is  coffered  in 
five  rows  of  cassettes,  which  are  covered  with  gold  foil.  Colossal  bronze 
lions  stand  at  the  corners  of  the  base  of  the  statue  of  Jupiter,  which  are 
used  as  stationary  censers,  for  their  open  mouths  emit  volumes  of  per 
fumed  smoke  which  curls  upward  through  the  aperture  in  the  dome. 
An  enormous  and  richly  decorated  altar  of  colored  marbles  is  in  front 
of  the  God,  with  a  fire  of  aromatic  herbs  and  cleft  wood  burning  upon 
it,  whose  flames,  reflected  in  numerous  gold  vessels  upon  the  altar, 
dance  fantastically  in  the  commingled  moonlight  and  firelight.  The 
pavement  is  a  chequer-work  of  slabs  of  red  and  black  Numidian  marble. 
Huge  torches  in  bronze  rings  affixed  to  the  walls  give  light.  The 
Pontifex  Maximus,  sustained  by  twelve  flamens,  is  officiating  before 
the  high  altar  All  are  clad  in  bright  red  robes.  The  Pontifex  Maxi 
mus  wears  a  tiara,  the  flamens  have  mitred  hats.  Behind  them  are 
twelve  vestal  virgins  whose  white  vesture  and  white  veils  gleam  like  snow 
in  the  moonbeams.  A  choir  of  boys  stands  on  the  right  and  left  of  the 
statue,  upon  a  dais,  or  raised  platform.  The  great  interior  of  the 
Pantheon  is  crowded  with  imperial  civil  and  military  officials,  senators, 
high  incumbents  of  consular  rank,  gentlemen  and  ladies  of  the  Roman 

(116) 


Xost  ©racles 


aristocracy,  all  richly  costumed.  The  purple  laticlave,  the  emblem  of 
the  highest  order  of  the  empire,  adorns  many  a  breast,  and  underneath 
many  a  military  cape  the  gleam  of  rich  armor  may  be  seen.  The 
music  is  wholly  of  brass  and  percussion  instruments.  There  are  no 
wood-winds  or  strings. 

HYMN  TO  JOVE 

Far  up  'gainst  the  starred  sky  thou  standest, 

Great  Jove,  of  years  without  number. 
Like  a  sentry  of  war  thou  commandest, 

With  eyes  never  knowing  of  slumber. 

The  sun  splashes  thee  with  his  glory, 

The  moon  washes  thee  with  her  light; 
Thy  marmoreal  forehead  is  hoary 

With  white-crusted  years  in  their  flight. 

When  skies  are  aglow  with  vermilion, 

And  the  sun  in  the  heavens  is  bowed, 
Like  a  king  in  his  secret  pavilion 

Thou  art  canopied  over  by  cloud. 

The  storm  flings  his  gonfalon  o'er  thee, 

The  clouds  build  a  battlement  under; 
Darkness  and  dread  bend  before  thee; 

Thou  art  ramparted  round  by  the  thunder. 

WThen  the  roar  of  the  elements  rages, 

And  the  mountains  shiver  aghast, 
Omnipotent  God  of  the  Ages, 

Thou  art  symbol  of  Rome's  mighty  past. 

On  thy  knees  is  the  fate  of  to-morrow: 

Of  the  future  no  mortal  is  sure. 
But  the  future  of  Rome,  it  shall  borrow 

A  strength  from  the  past  to  endure. 

(117) 


Ube  %ost  Oracles 


THE  CHOIR 

From  east  to  west,  from  north  to  south 

Spreads  Rome's  wide  battle-line; 
From  Caledon  to  Nilus'  mouth 

Holds  she  domain.     From  palm  to  pine 
Her  legions  move,  her  galleys  sail 
On  every  sea,  or  calm  or  gale. 

PONTEFEX  MAXIMUS  (intoning) 

Cub  of  the  she-wolf's  breed, 

Whelp  of  the  wer-wolf's  den, 
Sprung  from  barbarian  loins, 

FLAMENS  AND  VESTALS 

Rome,  thou  art  mother  of  men. 

PONTIFEX  MAXIMUS 

Mother  of  men  and  nations, 

Wielder  of  legions  and  law, 
Emancipator  of  peoples 

FLAMENS  AND  VESTALS 

From  rule  of  tooth  and  claw. 

PONTIFEX  MAXIMUS 

Thee,  in  the  ages  lying 

Beyond  our  time  and  ken 
Shall  men  with  praise  undying 

FLAMENS  AND  VESTALS 

Praise,  O  mother  of  men. 

THE  CHOIR 

High  on  her  throne  of  seven  hills,  august, 

Imperial  Rome  in  grandeur  sits. 
Beneath  her  feet  the  nations  are  as  dust. 
The  spectacle  of  history  flits 
(118) 


ZTbe  OLost  trades 


Before  her  haughty  eyes  like  caravan. 

Greece,  Egypt,  Carthage,  each  hath  passed; 
To  each  the  gods  have  measured  out  its  span. 

Thy  throne,  eternal  Rome,  shall  last. 
As  men  on  stepping-stones  do  rise 

Of  their  dead  selves  to  higher  air, 
Thou  treadest  down  the  years.     Emprise 

On  emprise  piled,  the  imperial  stair 
To  world-power  slopes  through  storm  and  sun. 

Thine,  thine,  be  all  dominion! 

VESTALS 

The  Twelve  Great  Gods  of  Rome  we  hymn. 
The  Pantheon,  august  and  dim, 
The  Gods  of  all  the  world  doth  rim. 

PONTEFEX  MAXIMUS  (in  high  and  magnificent  tones) 
Only  the  Christians  thee  defy,  O  Rome. 
Only  the  Christians  thee  deny,  O  Rome. 

THE  CHOIR  (mockingly) 
A  superstitious  breed 
From  Jew  and  Gentile  drawn, 
Without  the  law,  they  dream 
A  judgment  day  shall  dawn 
When  Rome  shall  pass  away; 
When  Christ,  their  God,  his  sway 
O'er  earth  and  heaven  shall  hold. 
Then  will  come  back  the  old  age, 
Then  will  come  back  the  gold  age 
By  seer  and  sibyl  told. 

THE  FLAMENS 

Vain  were  't  their  superstition  to  deride. 
He  whom  their  ignorance  hath  deified 

(119) 


Ube  Host  ©racles 


By  Pilate's  word  was  scourged  and  crucified. 
Since  time  began  what  god  hath  ever  died  ? 
Whom  the  Gods  would  destroy  they  first  make  mad. 
Since  man  began  to  write  hath  history  had 
Record  of  such  pursuit  ?  such  wild  design  ? 
Whereof  a  felon's  cross  is  the  ensign. 

A  commotion  arises  among  the  auditors.  Amid  shouts  of  protest 
and  derision,  an  ascetic  looking  Christian  priest,  with  dishevelled 
hair  and  unkempt  beard,  haggard  face,  and  the  general  appearance 
of  a  religious  fanatic,  rushes  wildly  into  the  midst  of  the  flamens  and 
vestals  before  the  high  altar,  and  begins  a  frantic  harangue  which 
sounds  like  the  chanting  of  a  sinister  incantation. 

THE  CHRISTIAN 

Mystery,  mystery,  is  unsealed! 
History,  history,  is  revealed! 
New  page  for  Rome  our  God  hath  writ; 
With  righteous  ruin  is  Rome  smit. 

Mother  of  harlotry, 

Sister  of  scarletry, 
The  blood  of  martyred  saints 
Cries  from  the  ground  their  plaints; 
Thy  sin  the  whole  world  taints. 
God  shall  double  double  unto  thee! 
God  shall  treble  trouble  unto  thee! 
The  cup  which  thou  hast  filled 

With  thy  own  doom  shall  bubble; 
For  blood  which  thou  hast  spilled 

God  shall  exact  thee  double. 

Simultaneously  a  tremor  sJiakes  the  Pantheon  and  a  crack  runs 
across  the  pavement  like  a  mouse  running  across  a  floor.  While  the 
auditors  stand  rooted  to  the  spot  in  grave  apprehension,  a  second 
shock  comes.  The  crack  in  the  pavement  widens  and  the  crowd,  with 
loud  cries,  retreats  pell-mell  from  its  yawning  edges.  The  statues  of 
the  twelve  gods  tumble  from  their  pedestals  in  the  niches,  and  some  of 
the  cojjers  in  the  ceiling  fall  with  a  crash.  With  the  third  shock  the 

(120) 


Xost  ©racles 


walls  of  the  Pantheon  are  ruptured.  The  marble  decoration  around 
the  attica  falls  down  in  a  shower  of  broken  fragments.  Then  ensues 
a  fourth  and  terrible  shock.  The  great  marble  statue  of  Jove  is  cleft 
from  crown  to  fork,  and  topples  in  two  gigantic  masses  over  upon  the 
heads  of  the  crowd.  The  dome  of  the  Pantheon  buckles  and  caves  in 
with  a  terrific  roar  of  shattered  stone  and  cement  work.  The  chequered 
pavement  heaves  like  the  face  of  the  sea  in  a  storm.  The  whole  struc 
ture  reels  to  and  fro  like  a  drunken  man.  In  the  midst  of  the  darkness 
and  terror  a  ferocious  growling  and  grumbling  may  be  heard  like  the 
diapason  of  a  heavy  surf  upon  a  rocky  coast.  It  is  the  Voice  of  the 
Earthquake. 

VOICE  OF  THE  EARTHQUAKE 

Grumble,  grumble,  grumble, 

Rumble,  rumble,  rumble, 

Tumble,  tumble,  tumble! 

Shock,  shock,  shock, 

Knock,  knock,  knock, 

Rock,  rock,  rock! 

Shake,  shake,  shake, 

Quake,  quake,  quake, 

Break,  break,  break! 

Crash,  crash,  crash, 

Dash,  dash,  dash, 

Smash,  smash,  smash! 

Yawn,  yawn,  yawn, 

Crack,  crack,  crack! 

Dawn,  dawn,  dawn 

Is  black,  black,  black! 

Earth  dips, 

Rome  slips, 

Yawn,  Earth,  and  crack  your  lips. 

Flee,  Sun,  into  eclipse, 

Hide,  Moon,  your  pallid  face; 

Run,  Stars,  God's  knees  embrace. 

(121) 


OLost  ©racles 


CRIES  OF  CONSTERNATION 

The  earth  moves 

The  Seven  Hills  are  shaken 

The  earth  is  clean  dissolved 

The  earth  reels  like  a  drunkard 

The  hills  are  removed  like  shepherds'  huts 

Rome  falls  .... 

and  shall  not  rise 

The  Christians'  God  shaketh  terribly  the  earth. 

A  VESTAL  VIRGIN 

From  Vesta's  hearth  the  fire  is  blown 

Whose  flame  averted  heaven's  wrath. 
Across  her  cold,  white  altar  stone 

The  slimy  snail  shall  chart  his  path. 

A  SENATOR 

The  Roman  state  is  desolate. 

THE  PRAETORIAN  PREFECT 

The  law  which  held  the  world  in  awe 
Is  swallowed  up  in  earth's  maw. 

A  dense  jog  settles  over  the  scene.    The  earthquake  shocks  lessen  in 
violence.     The  Pantheon  is  reduced  to  ruination. 

PONTIFEX  MAXIMUS  (in  solemn,  agonized  cry  from  the  midst  of 
the  ruins) 

While  stands  the  Pantheon  Rome  shall  stand: 
When  falls  the  Pantheon  Rome  shall  fall, 
And  when  Rome  falls  then  falls  the  world. 


(122) 


INTERLUDE 

PROCESSION  OF  THE  EXILED  GODS 


Visae  per  coelum  concurrere  acies,  rutilantia  arma,  et  subito 
nubium  igne  collucere  templum.  Expassae  repente  delubri  fores,  et 
audita  major  humana  vox,  excedere  deos;  simul  ingens  motus  exceden- 
tium. — TACITUS,  Historiae  v.  13. 

There  never  was  a  false  God,  nor  was  there  ever  a  false  religion, 
unless  you  call  a  child  a  false  man. — MAX  MULLER. 


INTERLUDE 
PROCESSION  OF  THE  EXILED  GODS 

A  gigantic  bridge,  black  and  sombre  of  aspect,  in  the  form  of  an  arc, 
is  suspended  over  the  void  between  Earth  and  Hell.  Its  ends  are  envel 
oped  in  clouds  and  vapor.  Far  down  in  the  gulf  beneath  it  the  River 
of  the  Milky  Way  may  be  seen  flowing  around  space.  To  sad  and 
solemn  music  the  long  procession  of  the  fallen  and  exiled  Gods  is  seen 
filing  across  the  bridge  toward  Hell,  and  singing  as  they  march.  In  the 
van  are  prehistoric  gods  who  lived  before  the  Flood,  whose  names  have 
been  forgotten  among  men — idols  in  wood,  stone,  metal.  Some  are 
antediluvian  sea-monsters,  some  are  of  huge  reptilian  form;  some  look 
like  lumbering  black  boulders  endowed  with  the  power  of  locomotion. 
These  are  meteorites  and  curious  forms  of  rock  worshiped  as  phalluses. 
Others  are  misshapen  figures  roughly  hewn  out  of  wood;  still  others 
appear  as  trees  walking,  their  tangled  roots  a  hundred  crooked  feet. 
All  of  these  are  dripping  with  the  ooze  of  the  Deluge  and  covered  over 
with  Crustacea  and  seaweed.  This  dreadful  company  is  followed  by 
the  Gods  of  the  early  Semites — Moloch,  Chiun,  and  Chemosh  of  the 
Moabites;  Baal-Berith,  Baal-Zebub,  the  God  of  Flies,  and  Ashtaroth, 
the  gods  of  the  Zidonians;  Nibhaz  and  Tartak,  gods  of  the  Amies; 
Milcom,  the  Ammonite  god;  Hadad-Rimmon,  the  god  of  the  ancient 
Id^^maeans;  Dagon,  the  great  Philistine  god;  Sepharvaim,  Adram- 
melech  and  Annammelech,  gods  of  the  ancient  Samaritans;  Bel,  Nebo, 
I  star,  Merodach,  the  great  gods  among  the  Babylonians  and  Assyrians, 
together  with  lesser  deities,  Remphan,  Nishroch,  Nergal,  Ashima; 
Attis  appears,  weeping  for  Tammuz  whom  she  does  not  see  following 
behind  her;  Osiris,  Isis,  Horus,  Apis,  Serapis,  gods  of  the  Egyptians. 
Last  of  all  comes  the  whole  thearchy  of  Greece  and  Rome. 
As  the  history  of  the  development  of  religion  is  the  history  of  an  ascend 
ing  symbolism,  the  deities  which  represent  the  great  civilizations  of 
antiquity,  notably  Isis,  I  star,  Apollo,  Demeter,  Aphrodite  and  Zeus, 
exhibit  a  refinement  and  nobility  of  countenance  which  shows  that 
even  under  anthropomorphic  guise  the  greatest  and  purest  minds  of 
antiquity  had  conceptions  of  the  attributes  of  deity  and  of  the  nature  of 
religion  less  gross,  perhaps,  than  many  beliefs  and  practices  now 
current  in  Christianity. 


(125) 


Ube  SLost  trades 


CHANT  OF  THE  FALLEN  GODS 

Across  the  Bridge  of  Breath, 
Over  the  Ridge  of  Death, 
Over  the  fearful  arch, 
We  inarch,  we  march. 
Tramp,  tramp,  tramp, 
Down  the  dizzy  ramp, 
Below  the  dews  and  damp, 
Scorned  but  undismayed, 
To  be  tortured,  yet  unafraid. 

Spin,  spin,  spin. 
The  potter  turns  his  wheel, 
And  thinks  a  god's  within 
The  clay  his  hands  conceal. 
Can  God  imprisoned  be 
In  ware  of  pottery  ? 

Gold,  gold,  gold. 

The  craftsman  melts  the  ore, 

And  runneth  it  in  mould 

(It  is  an  ancient  lore) ; 

Doth  inert  metal  hold 

A  power  to  adore  ? 

Man,  man,  man, 
Ever  since  the  world  began, 
From  prehistoric,  dim  age, 
Has  made  God  in  his  image, 
The  fetich  of  a  clan. 
In  wood,  or  stone,  or  bone 
The  patient  savage  lone, 
With  chisel  carves  and  hews, 
Or  doth  the  metal  fuse, 
(126) 


Ube  OLost  ©raclcs 


And  fashions  with  his  hands. 
To  whom  will  ye  God  liken  ? 
May  not  material  ikon, 
With  feet  and  hands  and  eyes, 
To  savage  heart  and  reason 
Give  comfort  in  its  season  ? 
To  spark  of  good  give  rise  ? 
May  not  barbarian  idol 
Yet  speak  a  message  daedal  ? 
That  one  who  doeth  right 
According  to  his  light 
God  sees — and  understands. 


(127) 


ACT  VI.    THE  CONSECRATION  AND  THE 
POET'S  DREAM 


Les  Dieux  sont  en  pouissiere  et  la  terre  est  muette: 

Rien  ne  parlera  plus  dans  ton  ciel  deserte. 

Dors!    Mais,  vivante  en  lui,  chante  au  coeur  du  poete 

L'hymne  melodieux  de  la  sainte  Beaute. 

Elle  seule  survit,  immuable,  eternelle. 

La  mort  peut  disperser  les  univers  tremblants, 

Mais  la  Beaute  flamboie,  et  tout  renait  en  elle, 

Et  les  mondes  encor  roulent  sous  ses  pieds  blancs. 

— LECONTE  DE  LISLE,  Hypatie. 


ACT  VI.    THE  CONSECRATION  AND   THE   POET'S 

DREAM 

SCENE  I.     PATMOS 
APOSTLE  JOHN  (slowly  awakening,  as  from  a  dream) 

It  was  a  dream 

The  ocean  stream 

This  island  of  volcanic  ash 

These  twisted  trees  ....  with  seam  and  gash 

Torn  by  tempest  ....  fire-scarred 

No  thing  is  changed Alas,  ....  'tis  hard 

Though  sick  with  hopes  deferred 

Yet  ....  Lord,  I  trust  thy  word. 

VOICES  IN  THE  AIR  (mockingly) 

Faith's  a  wraith, 

Faith's  a  bubble, 

Faith's  the  false  dawn, 

Faith  is  stubble. 
JOHN 

Foul  spirits  of  the  air 

Seek  to  gird  me  with  a  snare. 

Suddenly  a  shaft  of  sunlight  breaks  through  the  clouds,  and  a  dancing 
shape  appears  on  the  ground  before  the  apostle. 

FIRST  SPIRIT  (dancing  and  singing) 

On  a  golden  sunbeam  bright 
I  slid  hither  fast  as  light 
Through  the  clouds  that  veiled  my  sight. 
A  second  spirit  appears. 

SECOND  SPIRIT 

On  a  poet's  song  I  sped, 
As  I  flew  the  sun  rose  red, 
Night  before  the  day  fast  fled. 

(131) 


Olost  ©racles 


A  third  spirit  appears. 

THIRD  SPIRIT 

On  a  lover's  kiss  I  came 
Hitherwards,  my  wings  of  flame 
Rosy  red  with  maiden  shame. 
A  fourth  spirit  appears. 

FOURTH  SPIRIT 

From  a  baby's  laugh  I  sprang, 
While  beside  his  mother  sang 
Songs  wherewith  the  woodland  rang. 

The  apostle  John  half  rises  out  of  his  seat,  and  feebly  beats  around 
him  with  his  staff. 

JOHN 

Out!    Out!    Ye  sprites  abominable, 

Demons  in  angel  guise. 
Return,  return,  unto  that  Hell, 

The  abode  of  awful  mysteries. 

The  elfish  figures  disappear  with  mocking  laughter.  Simultaneously 
a  troop  of  peasants  of  the  island,  both  men  and  women,  clad  as  vine 
dressers  and  small  farm  laborers ,  files  slowly  into  view,  singing  a  dirge. 

DIRGE  FOR  PAN 

Trees  do  stand  when  the  sap  is  fled, 
With  outward  strength  though  the  heart  be  dead. 
Delphi  and  Delos  are  no  more; 
Tombs  have  outlasted  temples  hoar. 
The  pyramids  with  age  were  grey 
Ere  Parthenon  rose  in  light  of  day. 
In  Tempe's  vale  the  God  Pan  lies 
With  folded  hands  and  curtained  eyes; 
And  wingless  dreams  and  hopes  distorn 
Lift  tear-stained  faces  to  the  morn. 
Pan  is  dead,  and  the  lips  of  prayer 
Are  dumb  hi  measureless  despair. 
(132) 


ZTbe  Xost  ©racles 


Tumultuous  and  cofifused  voices  are  heard,  at  first  afar  of,  but 
rapidly  drawing  nearer,  commingled  with  the  music  of  pipes  and 
timbrels.  The  apostle  John  stiffens  with  horror,  while  the  peasants 
stand  in  eager  and  startled  expectation,  half  in  wonder,  half  in  awe, 
as  if  doubting  the  evidence  of  their  senses. 

A  MAN'S  VOICE  (singing} 

Swallow,  swallow,  swallow, 

Whither  fleest  thou  ? 
Apollo,  Apollo,  Apollo, 

Sun-God,  where  art  thou  now  ? 
Apollo,  Apollo,  Apollo, 
We  follow,  we  follow,  we  follow. 
Hollo!    Hollo!    Hollo! 
AN  Ony  MAN 

A  heritage  of  racial  memory, 

Resurgent  haunts  my  'wildered  brain. 

Ancestral  voices  call  me I  descry 

Dun  figures  moving  through  a  golden  rain; 
Vast  shapes  of  beauty  and  of  power,  limned 
Like  pointed  firs  against  a  western  sun 

THE  PEASANTS  (shouting  with  exultation) 

The  gods!  the  gods!  singing  the  Song  of  Earth — • 
The  cosmic  paean  which  Apollo  hymned— 

The  chant  Deucalion 
Sang  after  flood  of  life  and  death  and  birth! 

A  wild  and  hilarious  troop  of  men  and  women,  their  heads  crowned 
with  laurel  garlands  and  dad  in  goat  and  panther  skins,  breaks 
jubilantly  into  mew.  They  are  revellers  celebrating  the  Dionysian 
mysteries. 

THE  REVELLERS  (dancing  around  John's  chair,  and  joined  by 
the  peasants] 

Pan,  Pan,  Pan, 

E'er  since  the  world  began 

Comrade  and  friend  of  man. 

(133) 


Ube  Xost  trades 


Pulse,  sap; 
Throb,  blood; 
Leap,  babe; 
Break,  bud. 

O  Spring,  it  is  the  glad  time; 
O  Spring,  it  is  the  mad  time. 
O  Spring,  it  is  the  blood  time; 
O  Spring,  it  is  the  bud  time. 
What's  blood  in  me 
Is  sap  in  tree; 
Through  veins  of  each, 
In  man  and  beech 

There  runs  a  new  and  wondrous  speech. 
It  sings  of  bud  and  leaf, 
Of  wheat  and  barley  sheaf, 
It  sings  of  love  and  youth, 
It  sings  of  beauty,  truth, 
It  sings  in  cryptic  rhyme 
Of  lovers'  mating  time. 
Honey,  yellow,  yellow, 
Fruits  so  mellow,  mellow; 
Birds  and  sweet  birdsong, 
Poetry  and  word-song. 
Arbutus  flower  and  eglantine, 
Vine,  vine,  vine, 
Wine,  wine,  wine. 
That  wine  of  olden  numbers, 
Give  me  of  it  to  drain, 
And  dream  in  golden  slumbers 
The  world  is  young  again. 
The  apostle  John  swoons  and  falls  from  his  chair. 


(i34) 


%ost  ©racles 


A  GIRL  REVELLER  (singing) 

Come,  come  with  me 

To  Arcady. 

There  Pan  shall  set  thy  sad  heart  free. 

The  moaning  strait 

Shall  not  frustrate 

Our  hopes  intent,  our  hearts  elate. 

From  cliff  and  scar 

Of  Hellas,  far 

Poetic  fires  flash  like  a  star; 

Hymettus'  side 

Is  glorified, 

And  Tempe's  vale  is  deep  and  wide. 

Revellers  and  peasants  run  gleefully  away  leaving  John  lying  on  the 
ground. 


(i35) 


SCENE  2.    THE  VALE  OF  TEMPE  IN  THESSALY 

An  exquisitely  beautiful  woodland  glade,  walled  by  green  trees,  beech 
and  oak  mingled  with  the  white  blossoms  of  dogwood  and  the  blaze  of 
the  oleander  and  wild  pomegranate.  The  forest  lawn  is  carpeted  with 
flowers,  cyclamen,  and  violet,  and  starred  with  jonquils  and  anemones. 
The  wood  opens  toward  the  east  where  the  sky — the  hour  is  just  before 
dawn — glows  with  hues  of  rose-red  and  orient  pearl.  In  the  middle 
ground  a  young  man  and  a  young  woman  are  kneeling  before  a  simple 
green  altar  made  of  turfs  and  feeding  the  thin  flame  upon  it  with 
dried  twigs.  The  aromatic  smoke  ascends  slowly  in  silver  and  purple 
spirals,  breathing  a  fragrance  all  its  own  which  melts  and  commingles 
with  the  smell  of  fresh  earth,  the  breath  of  the  dawn,  and  the  odors  of 
jasmine  and  smilax,  myrtle  and  lentisk  and  wild  rosemary,  which 
hang  invisible,  yet  palpitating,  in  the  tender  morning  air. 

THE  MAN  (singing) 

Sparks  of  the  eternal  mind, 
We  have  that  fire  forgot; 
Pulses  of  the  eternal  heart 
We  are,  and  know  it  not. 
THE  WOMAN  (singing) 

Clod,  clod,  clod. 
With  eyelids  heavy  and  dry, 
We  stand  and  wait — 
Too  late,  too  late, 
And  God,  God,  God, 
Goes  unbeholden  by. 
Earth,  earth,  earth, 
Men  are,  and  alien 
To  the  birth,  birth,  birth, 
That  promised  to  make  men. 

The  man  and  the  woman  blow  vigorously  upon  the  thin  flame,  seeking  to 
kindle  it  into  larger  life.  As  their  effort  is  rewarded  they  rise  up, 
and  standing  hand  in  hand,  alternately  regard  the  fire,  the  exquisite 

(136) 


Xost  trades 


little  vale  in  which  they  are,  and  the  growing  dawn.  A  golden  mist, 
so  fine  that  it  may  scarcely  be  distinguished  from  the  vibrations  of 
light,  suffuses  the  atmosphere. 

MAGNIFICAT  TO  MOTHER  EARTH  (the  man  and  woman  singing 
in  unison) 

This  earth  is  not  a  rondured,  steadfast  globe 

With  mere  material  substance  over-wrought. 
The  grasses  are  her  hair,  the  seas  her  robe, 

She  is  a  creature  bright  of  sentient  thought; 
A  cosmic  person  in  the  Milky  Way, 

Sister  to  planets,  brothered  by  the  Sun, 
Walking  through  starry  meadows  of  the  sky, 

WTaking  or  asleep,  like  benediction, 
Alternate  night  and  day 

Giving  to  men  who  in  her  bosom  lie. 

THE  WOMAN 

All  living  things  of  earth  are  children  of 

The  great  Earth  Mother — gods  and  faeries,  we 
Who  have  forgotten  her  sweet  mother-love, 

Bird,  birdsong,  animal,  wild  bee. 
With  unseen  hand  the  migrant  seal  she  guides; 
By  her  the  homing  pigeon  marks  her  flight, 

And  squirrels  and  ants  their  winter  stores  amass; 
Her  subtle  influence  directs  the  tides, 

Darkness  and  light 
In  ordered  sequence  makes  to  come  and  pass. 

THE  MAN 

The  calmness  of  the  unhastening  earth.    To  walk 
Through  primal  fire  and  dew  as  man  at  first; 

To  sport  with  stars  and  with  the  thunder  talk; 
Unblanched  to  view  the  vivid  lightning  burst. 

(137) 


Ube  %o5t  ©racies 


0,  the  sweet  nakedness  of  running  streams, 
Savor  of  soil,  flavor  of  honey  found 

Within  the  heart  of  ancient  forest  tree, 
Flutings  of  Pan  to  hear  in  magic  dreams — 

And  then  to  feel  around 
The  arms  of  the  Great  Mother  mothering  me. 

THE  WOMAN 

Dear  Mother  Earth,  majestical  and  grave, 

Merge  me  with  thy  own  self  and  make  me  kin 
To  flying  shapes  of  hills  and  seas — me  lave 

With  living  waters  that  shall  cleanse  from  sin. 
I  hear  the  Dawn's  voice  crying  in  the  wind: 

"O,  Day  Star,  rise.     Darkness  its  course  has  run." 

Let  me  lie  down  even  as  a  wondering  child, 
A  pulse  of  thy  own  planetary  mind, 

Familiar  of  the  Sun, 
Playmate  of  stars,  with  eyes  of  glory  wild. 

MAN  AND  WOMAN 

0  archetypal  world,  soul  of  the  Earth, 

Swim  close  to  me,  enormous,  simple,  vast. 
Give  me  to  feel  within  my  heart  the  birth 

Of  those  melodic  harmonies  thou  hast. 
Free  me  from  time,  from  number  and  from  space; 
Break  the  sham  barriers  which  men  have  made; 

Ope  thou  the  gates  of  ivory  and  horn; 
Give  me  to  see,  naked  and  unafraid 

The  vision  of  thy  face 
As  man  saw  God  upon  creation's  morn. 
A  company  of  white-robed  figures  appears  from  the  edge  of  the  wood) 
and  slowly  approaches  the  man  and  woman  before  the  altar.     They  are 
men  of  middle  age,  with  beards  tinged  with  grey  and  of  singularly 
lofty  and  beautiful  countenance  and  carriage.     They  are  poets  and 
philosophers  such  as  Aeschylus,  Sophocles,  Euripides,  Heraclitus, 
Plato,  and  Zeno  were. 


Xost  ©racles 


CHORUS  OF  POETS  AND  PHILOSOPHERS 

We  are  the  bards  and  the  sages 

Who  know  the  wisdom  of  yore; 
We  are  the  wise  men  and  mages 

Of  strange  mythological  lore; 
Sibyls  who  translate  the  pages 

Of  volumes  of  history  hoar. 
We  are  the  makers  of  truth, 

We  are  the  weavers  of  song; 
We  are  the  wooers  of  ruth, 

We  are  the  righters  of  wrong; 
We  are  the  knitters  of  time, 

Teachers  of  what  men  have  thought; 
We  are  the  makers  of  rhyme, 

Preachers  of  what  right  hath  wrought. 

The  now  mingled  company  stands  before  the  smoking  altar,  but  less 
regarding  the  flame  upon  it  than  the  glorious  da-urn. 

FIRST  PHILOSOPHER 

Darkling  men  listen  to  that  great  undertone 

Which  sings  through  sky  and  sea  and  land; 
Like  shipwrecked  sailors  on  a  strange  coast  thrown, 

Frightened  by  things  they  do  not  understand, 
Darkling  men  see,  at  their  own  shadows  leap: 

The  wonder,  beauty,  sweetness,  awe 
Of  nature's  moods  but  frighten  them  as  sheep ; 

Like  blind  force  nature  seems,  not  law. 

The  sun  comes  up  in  majestic  drapery  clad.     The  flame  on  the  altar 
springs  and  glows  and  crackles. 

FIRST  POET 

Canst  thou  arrest  the  breath  of  violet  ? 
Or  catch  the  nightingale's  song  in  a  net  ? 
Or  clutch  the  wind  ?  or  snatch  the  stars  ? — 
The  rings  of  Saturn  or  the  moons  of  Mars  ? 

(139) 


ZTbe  Xost  ©racles 


God  is  spirit,  holiness,  beauty,  truth, 

Life,  love,  law,  justice,  power,  ruth. 

For  reason,  mind  eternal,  supreme  cause 

Fast  hold  the  world  within  eternal  laws. 

And  earth,  sea,  mountains,  sky,  stars,  planets,  man, 

Are  subject  to  His  all-pervading  plan. 

A  merry  group  of  nymphs,  fauns,  dryads,  comes  dancing  and  leaping 
forth  from  the  embowered  woods.  They  form  an  inner  circle  around 
the  altar,  and  seem  to  dance  in  time  with  the  dancing  flames . 

CHORUS  OF  NYMPHS 

God's  a  whisper, 
God's  a  shout, 
God's  a  sweet  air 
Blown  about. 
God  is  time, 
God  is  chime, 
God  is  rhyme. 
God  is  wind, 
God  is  art, 
God  is  mind, 
God  is  heart. 

THE  FAUNS  (leaping  and  dancing) 
God  is  I, 
God  is  star, 
God  is  by, 
God  is  far, 
God  is  prayer, 
God  is  hymn, 
God  is  light, 
God  is  twilight  dim. 
Changeless  spirit,  yet  the  change. 
Rangeless  spirit,  yet  the  range. 
Strangeless  spirit,  yet  how  strange. 
(140) 


Xost  ©racles 


CHORUS  OF  DRYADS 

God  is  twilight,  god  is  dawn, 

God  is  shadow  on  a  lawn, 

God  is  near  light, 

God  is  dear  light, 

God  is  far  light, 

God  is  star  light. 

God  is  the  depth,  God  is  the  plummet, 

God  is  the  base,  God  is  the  summit, 

God  is  love,  God  is  wrath, 

God's  the  mountain,  God's  the  path. 

CHORUS  OF  NYMPHS,  FAUNS,  AND  DRYADS 
In  the  warp  and  in  the  woof, 
In  the  pattern,  in  the  proof, 
In  the  color  of  the  dye, 
In  the  shuttle  flying  by, 
In  the  thread,  the  knots  which  bind, 
In  the  thought  of  weaver's  mind. 

God  shalt  thou  find. 
In  the  reft  and  in  the  dower, 
In  the  storm  and  in  the  shower, 
In  the  year  and  in  the  hour, 
In  the  seed  and  in  the  flower, 

God  is  power. 

In  the  sowing  and  the  reaping, 
In  our  laughter  and  our  weeping, 
In  the  letting  and  the  keeping, 
In  the  wide  and  in  the  narrow, 
In  the  eagle  and  the  sparrow, 
In  the  deep  and  in  the  shallow, 
In  the  acorn  and  the  mallow 

God  lies  sleeping. 

(141) 


